The Everett Legacy
by Rachel D
Summary: The generations of Steve and Bebe Everett's family, beginning when seventeen-year-old Ada Rossi first boards the Titanic. COMPLETED!
1. Part 1: Ada Rossi

_**THE EVERETT LEGACY**_

A/N: I was inspired to write this after reading the _Sweet Valley _books, The Wakefield Legacy and The Wakefields of Sweet Valley, but I'm not going so far back with the generations. This is the history of the Everett family, mainly that of Jason's stepfather, Steve. And yes, I'm one of those people who likes researching family histories.

**PART ONE: Ada Rossi**

"Ada? Ada, wake up, darling," I heard my mother's voice say. "We're here."

Yawning and stretching, I opened my eyes and sat up. It had been a long trip, but we'd finally arrived at our destination. We'd boarded a train in London the night before, then woke up early that morning, before the sun was even up, and here we were.

I made my way out of the car at the Southampton dock, and stared up in awe at the grand ship in front of me. I'd heard so many wonderful things about this ship, the _Titanic, _including the belief that it was unsinkable. This was the ship that would take us to Long Island in New York, where the Cirotas—Mama's brother, which is my Uncle Giacomo (pronounced JOCK-uh-moe), Aunt Sarah, and twelve-year-old cousin Giorgio—had moved the year before. In all my life, seventeen years, to be exact, I'd never seen such a grand ship. I stepped out of the way as my ten-year-old sister, Antonia, jumped out of the car. "Wow, Ada, isn't that ship something?" she commented. "And they say it's unsinkable!"

_"Practically _unsinkable," Mama reminded her.

I nodded as Papa handed out our tickets and suitcases. We were to sail second class on the grandest ship in the world. "Are we all here?" he asked. "Ada?"

"Yes," I answered, taking my suitcase and ticket.

"Giovanni?"

"Yes, Papa," my fourteen-year-old brother answered.

"Bettina?"

"Right here, Papa," my thirteen-year-old sister answered.

"Antonia?"

"I'm here, too, Papa," she answered, taking her suitcase and ticket.

"Let's go!" Papa called to us.

The six of us headed up the gangplank to the second-class entrance. Once we got on the ship, Mama handed out our room assignments. "Okay," she said. "Your father and I are in Cabin D-51, Giovanni and Antonia are in Cabin D-52, and Ada and Bettina are in Cabin D-53."

I nodded, and followed my sister into our cabin.

The first thing I noticed was how much room there was in the hallway, as opposed to the third-class portion of the ship, or so I'd heard. And the room that Bettina and I were sharing was pretty nice, too. Granted, it was no parlor suite, but at least we wouldn't be climbing over each other just to get in and out of the room.

"Isn't it wonderful not to have to step outside to change your mind?" Bettina joked. That's my sister. She literally cannot go five minutes without making a joke about something. Most of the time, I'm holding my sides from laughing so hard. Other times, I pretend not to get them. But every once in a while, I can't help but groan. And this was one of those times. Apparently, Bettina got the message, because she decided no more jokes for the moment.

As I put my suitcase down on the bed, I happened to look over my shoulder and see a boy passing by in the hallway. He was a head taller than me, and looked around my age, with reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes. He was wearing an olive-green shirt, tan pants, brown leather oxfords, and a gray jacket and cap. With him was a little boy who couldn't have been more than five or six years old. What really got my attention was how patient he was with this kid, considering how excited he was to be on what was known throughout the world as "the Ship of Dreams". I was really impressed with how he was able to keep him from running off and getting lost in the crowd.

Then he looked up at me, and gave me the most wonderful smile. Looking at him, I felt like everything around us had litrally stopped, and nothing else in the world existed except him and me. That's how great a smile he had.

But of course it wasn't going to last forever, because the next thing I knew, I saw were his parents and sister, who looked about Antonia's age, coming up behind him. "Come along, boys," his father said, in a heavy Irish brogue. He was a big ox of a man with a bushy moustache, just like Papa, and even though he seemed kind of gruff, I oculd sense that he was also a very loving, gentle man as well. In my honest opinion, I think all fathers are like that.

This was going to be a great voyage, but despite how much I was looking forward to the trip to America, I still had a sense that something bad would happen.

Later that evening, we went to the dining room for dinner. I saw that boy and his family sitting at another table. There was another family that caught my attention, though. It was a middle-aged man and woman with a little girl who looked about seven years old. After we finished our meal, Mama, my sisters, and I approached the woman and her daughter. "Hi," Mama said to the woman. "I'm Liliana Rossi, and these are my daughters, Ada, Bettina, and Antonia."

"Hi," the woman answered as her husband got up and went to the smoking lounge with the other men. "I'm Esther Hart, and this is my daughter, Eva. She's seven. Would you like to sit down?"

"Sure," Mama said.

"If you need me, I'll be over there," I said, pointing in the direction where I'd seen that boy go.

"All right, Ada," Mama said, and I ran off.

I caught up with the boy on the deck. "Hi," I said breathlessly. "I've been meaning to talk to you all afternoon. I couldn't help noticing how wonderful you were with your little brother."

"Yeah," he said. "Tommy can be a handful, but he's stil a good kid. I'm David Ryan."

"Ada Rossi," I said, extending my hand.

"Ada," he repeated. "It seems you're as lovely as your name."

I giggled, and he kissed my hand.

"Well, I should be going," I said. "I hope to see you again, David Ryan."

"See you later," he said.

Wow, what a nice boy.

_April 14, 1912_

I'd seen David a few more times since that night out on the deck. I wondered if I'd see him at the church service that morning. I put on my purple ankle-length dress, put my hair up in a bun, and Mama put a pearl necklace around my neck. When we were all ready, we left for the chapel.

As we were singing "Eternal Father Strong to Save", I couldn't help glancing across the aisle, and saw David and his family. They seemed like such a nice family.

After dinner, I met up with David on the deck again. "Give me your hand," he whispered. "And close your eyes."

I extended my hand and closed my eyes. Then he said, "Step up on the railing." With David's help, I stepped up onto the railing and felt him take my arms and spread them apart. "Now, open your eyes."

I opened my eyes, and it looked like I was flying. _"Come, Josephine, in my flying machine, and it's up she goes...up she goes..." _he whispered. I couldn't help giggling.

After a few more minutes, we climbed down from the railing and sat down on a nearby bench. "So, how did you like that, Ada?" he asked.

"I loved it," I answered. "You know, I wish I really could fly."

"You can," David said, taking my hand. "Well, not literally, of course, but if you truly believe in yourself, and if you persevere in everything you do, there's no limit to how high you can fly."

You know what? As soon as David said that, I could feel my heart melt. "Oh, David," I whispered, and I threw my arms around him. That was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me. As we held each other under the setting sun, I had the most wonderful feeling, as if a wish I'd secretly had all my life just might come true.

Which is why I didn't expect what would eventually happen, or even concieve of the possibility.

Later that night, I was sleeping in my bed when I felt a bump and heard a grinding sound.

That jolted me and Bettina wide awake. "Ada?" she whispered. "What was that?"

"I don't know," I answered. "Let's go wake Mama and Papa."

When we got out into the hall, we found that was not necessary, because our whole family was there. "Did you feel that?" Antonia asked.

I nodded. Suddenly, I had a very bad feeling about this.


	2. Ada 2

**ADA 2**

"Can you tell me what's going on?" Mama asked a passing steward.

The steward shook his head and continued running down the hall. That was my first clue that something wasn't right.

"Well, let's get back to our rooms and start packing. If we're in danger we may have to evacuate," Papa said.

Bettina and I returned to our room, put on the dresses we'd worn earlier that day, as well as wool socks and our boots, and packed our satchels. We each put in an extra outfit, our nightgowns, and as many books as we could fit. "Let's go," I said.

Bettina nodded. I could see the tears forming in her eyes. "Hey," I said, putting my satchel down and my hands on her shoulders. "It's going to be all right. If there's one thing I know, it's that Papa would never let anything bad happen to us."

The two of us put on our coats, grabbed our satchels, and left our room. "I see you're ready," Papa observed.

"Yes, Papa," Bettina said.

We headed up the hall and into the reception area near the Grand Staircase. We saw first and second class passengers milling about, unsure of what to do.

After what seemed like an eternity, the same steward Mama met in the hallway met us. "Get back to your rooms, get your lifebelts on, and go up to boat deck," he said. His tone of voice sounded angry, but that was because this was a serious situation.

"I'll get our lifebelts," I told Bettina ans I set my satchel at her feet. "You stay here with our satchels."

"Okay," she said. I could see her eyes were as big as an owl's.

I raced back to our room, grabbed our lifebelts, and returned to where I'd left my sister. It took a minute or so for all of us to put them on, and we were soon on our way up to the boat deck.

Within minutes, we were met by Mama and Antonia. "They're putting the women and children into the boats first," she told us. "The men will be in another."

Well, needless to say, Bettina immediately burst into tears. "I don't want to leave you, Papa!" she wailed, flinging her arms around him. I was sure she was going to break his neck.

"It's only for a little while," Papa tried to reassure her. "Like your mother said, this boat is only for the women and children. Giovanni and I will be in a boat with the rest of the men. Okay, darling?"

"Okay," Bettina sniffled. I could tell that she was still scared.

Just then, David came running over to us. "Did you feel that?" he asked.

I nodded. "What's going to happen now?" I asked.

"Well, the women and children are heading up to the boat deck to get on the lifeboats. If there's any room left, they'll start loading the men. If I don't see you again, dear Ada, I'd like for you to have this." He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a necklace with a four-leaf clover on it. "It'll bring you good luck."

I won't lie to you, I was so touched when he gave me that. "Thank you," I whispered as I took it, and we gave each other a hug.

"Well, let's get going," Mama said as soon as he released me.

"Be careful," I told David.

"You, too," he said with a brave grin and wink.

David ran back to his family as my family and I headed to the boat deck. On the way, I saw one of the other mothers cross herself as she started whispering the Lord's prayer in what I later learned was Gaelic.

"'I will lift up mine eyes unto the mountain from whence cometh my help'," I murmured, doing the same, as I quoted from Psalm 121. If there was ever a time in which we needed God on our side, this was definitely it.

_April 15, 1912_

"What time is it?" Mama asked Papa. I handed her the necklace David had given me, and she put it around my neck, along with the crucifix.

Papa pulled his pocket watch out of his pocket. "It's 1:05 a.m.," he answered.

Mama, my sisters, and I joined the line of women and children heading toward the lifeboats. Papa was right behind us. Several minutes later, we were right by where the officers were. "Goodbye, Giancarlo," Mama said, giving him a kiss.

Nearby, I could hear little Eva Hart starting to cry. "Daddy, get on the boat!" she pleaded. Bettina had somehow managed to calm down, but this poor little girl was just in hysterics.

"It's only goodbye for a little while," Mr. Hart reassured his daughter as he wrapped a blanket around her. "There'll be another boat for the daddies. This one's for you and Mummy. Now, hold her hand and be a good little girl."

After Eva and her mother had been helped into the boat, Mama and Antonia were right behind them. "Step aboard, miss," the officer said, helping me into the boat.

After Bettina had been helped into the boat, an officer, who I assumed was going to take charge of us in the boat, stepped in last. "Lower away!" another officer shouted.

"Good-bye, Papa, Giovanni," I whispered as the boat was lowered past the decks and into the water. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that this was going to happen to us. I'm sure everybody else felt the same way.

As our boat was being lowered, the officer fired several shots from his revolver. We rowed far away from the ship as the last of the distress rockets were being fired. All the while, I could faintly hear the ship's orchestra playing a hymn that I knew as "Nearer, My God, To Thee".

After what seemed like an eternity, I heard cracking noises, and when I raised my head, I saw the lights go out and the ship breaking in two. "Oh, my God," I whispered, clutching Mama's hand on my left and Antonia's on my right.

"PAPA! GIOVANNI!" Bettina screamed, starting to cry. Mama wrapped her arms around my sister in an attempt to keep her from going crazy.

"There's nothing we can do for them now," Mama said, forcing Bettina to look her in the eye. "And besides, we don't know if they're still on the ship or not. I know you're scared. I am, too. We all are. But all we can do is have faith that they'll be okay."

Bettina was still scared to death, but she nodded and tried to keep it together for her sake, as well as everyone else's. With that, the four of us held each other and watched in horror as the ship made its final descent into the ocean.

The officer that was in c harge of our boat, whose name I later learned was Lowe, turned to us several minutes after the ship was gone and the cries of people in the water had died down. "Okay," he said. "I'd like to transfer all the women from this boat into these other four boats. We'll have to go back and pick up others we find."

Those of us in the boat stood up and approached the officer to be transferred to another boat. Mama and Bettina were in one boat, and Antonia and I were in another. I'm still amazed at how we were able to get into that boat without falling into the freezing-cold water, especially after what we'd just been through.

As dawn approached, we were rowing toward our rescue ship, the _Carpathia. _Within minutes, I found myself being placed in a basket and hoisted up onto the deck, followed by Antonia. "Where's Papa?" she asked.

Shaking my head, I could only assume that he and Giovanni had gone down with the ship. In retrospect, that was no surprise to me.

"Let's sit over here on this bench and wait for Mama and Bettina," I suggested. My voice sounded so numb, it didn't even sound like me.

The officer approached us. "Names?" he asked me.

"Ada Rossi," I answered.

"Antonia Rossi," my sister answered.

As soon as Mama and Bettina joined us, the officer took their names as well. After Mama had given her name, she asked, "Where are my husband and son?"

"As soon as we can, we'll start a search-and-rescue effort," the officer told her.

"Thank you," Mama answered. Judging from the tone of her voice, it was very obvious that she was still hopeful that they were all right, but I already knew. I wasn't about to tell her, though.

I looked around to see if I could find David. I didn't see him, but I did see his mother, brother, and sister. "Where's David?" I asked, walking over to them.

Mrs. Ryan shook her head. I could see the tears forming in her eyes, and that was all it took for me to know what had happened. "I'm afraid he's gone," she answered

I burst into tears and buried my face into her shoulder. My knees buckled, and I started to sag to the deck. It took both Mrs. Ryan and her daughter Clara to hold me up. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. People were supposed to have a good time on this voyage, not die. It just wasn't fair.

"You're Ada, aren't you?" Mrs. Ryan finally managed to ask. Sobbing, I nodded. "David was very fond of you. In fact, he told me about that necklace he gave you. He said it was good luck."

"Yes," I whispered, pulling it out of my dress to show her.

"He always thought of other people first," Mrs. Ryan continued. "In fact, he saved all the money he'd earned from working in his grandfather's butcher shop just so we could come to America."

"We're going someplace in Michigan called Detroit," Clara added.

I nodded. I knew he was a nice boy, but this was the last thing I expected to hear.

"He was such a good boy. He loved his family more than anything," Mrs. Ryan said.

"I'm sure he did," I agreed. "He was really nice to me, too."

After a few more minutes, Mama and my sisters came up to us. "Come along now, Ada," Mama said gently. She was crying, too. It was then that I knew that she knew about Papa and Giovanni.

"Take care of yourselves," I whispered as Mrs. Ryan and I hugged.

"You, too," she said. And we went our separate ways.

We were shown to our room, which was basically a small cubicle with three bunks bolted to the walls. It was so tiny and cramped, but at least we'd be getting some rest.

_April 18, 1912_

We arrived in New York that evening, and through the rain, we could see that Uncle Giacomo was there on the dock to meet us. "Giacomo!" Mama exclaimed as we got off the ship. The four of us ran up to meet him.

"Hello, Liliana," he answered as he took my sisters in his arms. "Girls."

"Giancarlo's dead," Mama told him. "Giovanni, too."

Upon hearing that, Uncle Giacomo put his hand to his heart and started praying in Italian. "I'm so sorry," he finally answered. "I kind of had a feeling that something was going to go wrong, but I didn't want to believe it."

"So did I," I whispered, not looking at anyone in particular. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who felt that way. I wondered if anyone else on that ship had the same feeling I did.

After a minute or so of hugging and trying to comfort each other, Uncle Giacomo said. "Well, we'd better get going now. And in case you're wondering, there's plenty of room for all of you at my house."

"Thank you so much," Mama said gratefully. And we started to leave the dock.

Despite the tragic circumstances of our trip, our new life in a new country was about to begin.


	3. Ada 3

A/N: Did anyone catch the _Titanic_ references, both from the actual historical event and the 1997 movie?

**ADA 3**

_July 19, 1912_

My family and I had been living with the Cirotas for the past three months. Yes, they were wonderful people to take us in, and were a lot of fun to be with. My only problem was the lack of privacy. Mama, my sisters, and I all had to share a room, because it wasn't considered proper for one of us girls to share with Giorgio.

Fortunately, Giorgio knew how I felt, because one Sunday after we came home from church, he called me into the kitchen. "You know, Ada, I couldn't help noticing how you've been feeling lately," he said. "If I were in your position, I'd be wanting to tear my hair out, too. And Lord knows, I'm not ready for a receding hairline yet."

"No, you're not," I laughed. And I thought Bettina was the family joker!

"So, anyway," Giorgio continued, "I have a little surprise for you downstairs." With that, he opened the basement door, and turned on the light. As he usually did, he had to tap the bulb to get it to stop flickering. (In case you're wondering, what they say is true: every house does have its little quirks, just like people.)

I honestly could not have been more surprised by what I saw when we got down to the basement. In the far left corner was a room that they always used for storage. Now, it was cleaned out, and had a full-length mirror, a dresser, a vanity, and an armoire. It even had its own bathroom!

"Giorgio!" I exclaimed. "It's beautiful! You did this for _me?"_

"We all did," Giorgio smiled. "I suggested it to my parents a few days before Papa left for the dock to collect you. I said, 'You know, Ada's not a little kid anymore, and she should have a room of her own.' And Mama said, 'That's so sweet of you to think of your cousin like that, especially after what she and her family have been through.' So Papa and I fixed this room up for you."

"Where did you get the furniture?" I asked.

"From the attic," he answered. "Granny and Grampy left it to us."

"Where's your stored stuff?"

"Papa built a storage shed last fall, and we put it in there."

"Oh, thank you so much, Giorgio!" I grinned as I gave him a hug. Of all my cousins, he was always one of the nicest.

Later that evening, Mama made an announcement. "Girls," she said that night at the dinner table. "I have an announcement."

"What is it, Mama?" Bettina asked.

"Well, as you know, we've been living here for three months, and this afternoon, your uncle told me that there's a dress shop downtown that Ada and I can get jobs at, and there's an apartment over the store."

I nodded. I'd graduated from school the year before, so this would be my first job.

"What about school?" Antonia asked.

"We registered you and Bettina at a local school about two blocks away," Mama answered. "You'll start in September."

"Okay," Antonia agreed. She would be going into fifth grade, and Bettina would be going into eighth. Unfortunately, our old school in Naples only took students up to the tenth grade, so like I said, I'd graduated before we moved to London.

"When do we move?" Bettina asked.

"Next week," Mama answered.

I couldn't believe that we were finally getting our own apartment, however small it may be.

The following week, Uncle Giacomo took us in his car to a building about three blocks away. The building looked fairly new. The dress shop would be on the lower level, and the apartment would be right above it. The dress shop had a waist-high counter and three or four dressmakers' dummies. There were several bolts of fabric in all colors, some with stripes, some with checks, and some with polka dots; dress patterns on the table; and a measuring tape hanging around the neck of one of the dummies. The scissors were laying on one of the dress patterns.

The apartment itself was very nice. It had three bedrooms, so that meant two of us would have to share a room; a bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room.

"Who gets their own room?" Bettina asked.

"Well, since Ada eventually got her own room while we were staying with Uncle Giacomo, it should be her," Mama answered. "When the time comes for Ada to get married and move out, you and Antonia will have your own rooms then." Antonia nodded.

We were allowed to decorate our rooms any way we wanted. I took the furniture from my room at Uncle Giacomo's house, and got a pink bedspread with the white sheets I'd had there. When I finished, it looked really nice.

We couldn't wait to start our new lives in our new home.

_February 2, 1913_

As my family and I were coming out of church, I almost collided with someone. When I looked up at him, I saw that he had brown hair, greenish-blue eyes, and gold-rimmed glasses. "Hello," I said.

"Hello," he answered. He was really cute.

"I'm Ada Rossi," I said.

"I'm Antonio Russo, but you can call me Tony," he said. "Everyone else does."

I smiled. He was even cuter than David Ryan. I wondered if he was watching this from heaven—or if, perhaps, he'd made sure this meeting took place.

"Um, look, I'm sorry I didn't see you there," Tony managed to say.

"Oh, that's okay. I have that same problem myself," I said. "You should've been at my house last Thanksgiving. It was like a can of sardines in there."

"Sounds like a typical day at my house," Tony laughed. "Seven of us kids, my parents, and my grandfather. And yes, I'm the oldest."

"Really? So am I!"

"Get out of here!" we exclaimed at the same time. And to no one's surprise, all of our siblings were within earshot, and found the whole conversation hysterically funny. Something told me that we'd be hearing them say that a _lot. _Either that, or we'd hear it from our descendants.

"Well, I hope to see you again," he said.

"You, too," I answered.

After we went our separate ways, Mama asked, "Who was that boy?"

"I just met him, Mama," I answered. "His name's Antonio Russo, but he says to call him Tony."

_"Ooh, Ada's in lo-ove, Ada's in lo-ove," _Antonia said in a sing-song voice.

"Oh, be quiet," I told her. But even I had to laugh, to tell you the truth.

I couldn't wait to see Tony again.

The following Sunday after church, I met up with Tony again. "Hi, Ada," he said.

"Hi, Tony," I answered. "Oh, this is my mother, and these are my sisters, Bettina and Antonia. Bettina's going to be fourteen in April, and Antonia just turned eleven a couple of weeks ago."

"Hi, girls," Tony answered. "Mind if I walk with you for a while?"

"Not at all," Mama answered.

"Tell me more about yourselves," Tony said.

"Well, we came over from Italy on the _Titanic _last year," Mama told him. "We'd lived in Naples until the summer before last, then moved to London. My husband and son were lost when the _Titanic _went down."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Tony said.

"Thank you."

"What about you?" Bettina asked.

"Well, my family and I came here from Venice when I was thirteen," Tony said. "I have four brothers and two sisters. Jane and Franco, the twins, are three; James is ten; Nunzio is twelve; Inga is fourteen; and Stefano is fifteen. The twins are the only ones of us to be born in America."

"Wow, that's nice," Bettina said. "I think I've seen your sister at school."

"Well, this is where I turn off," Tony said a few minutes later. "I'll see you ladies next Sunday."

"You, too," Mama said.

Not only was he nice, but he's considerate, too. That was one quality I really admired in a man.

_December 6, 1914_

Over the next year and a half, Tony and I saw a lot of each other, not only at church, but he'd sometimes stop by the apartment or the dress shop when he was in the neighborhood. He was so much fun to be with: smart, funny, supportive, and protective. And I could tell that Mama and my sisters really liked him, too. Antonia especially thought he was something special. As she once told me over dinner, "Tony knows absolutely everything about algebra."

One morning as Tony and I came out of church, he said, "I need to talk to you, so I'd like to walk you home."

"Okay," I agreed.

"Well, see you later, Ada," Bettina, now fifteen, said.

"'Bye, Tony," Antonia, now twelve, added.

"See you girls later," he said.

"Okay," I said as soon as Mama and my sisters were out of sight.

"Ada," Tony began. "You know I've loved you since the moment I first set eyes on you, right?" I nodded. "Well, uh, I was wondering..._wouldyoubemywife?"_

"Say that again?"

"Would you do me the honor of being my wife?" he asked, getting down on one knee and placing a ring on my finger. It was white-gold, and had a large square diamond on it. It was the prettiest one I'd ever seen in my life. I think it was even prettier than the one Papa had given Mama. The only difference is, Mama's is yellow-gold and has a large pear-shaped diamond, surrounded by tiny emeralds and rubies.

"Yes," I whispered. I could not wait to get home and tell Mama the news.

When I got home, Mama was waiting for me. "What did Tony want?" she asked.

"Well...see for yourselves," I said, holding out my hand.

"Wow," Mama and my sisters marveled.

"Ada, that's such wonderful news," Bettina grinned. "Tony's such a wonderful man."

"We'll set a date soon," I promised.

"That's great," Mama said.

"Oh, when we start making the big plans, I'd like you to help me make my wedding dress, and I'd like for Uncle Giacomo to walk me down the aisle in Papa's absence."

"Okay, I'll be sure to mention it to him when we see him at Christmas."

"Okay," I agreed.

"What about us?" Bettina asked.

"I'd also like for you girls to be my bridesmaids," I answered. Bettina nodded. She looked so excited.

"We have so much to do," Antonia said.

"We sure do," I agreed. "A dress, where to have the ceremony, the reception, caterers..."

I guess I was rambling at the mouth and pacing back and forth, because the next thing I knew, Mama had stepped in front of me. "Okay, Ada, just take a deep breath," she said. "I know planning a wedding takes time, but you must not get yourself over-excited."

"You could always elope," Bettina suggested. "And I promise not to have Giorgio beat him up if you do."

"Then we'd need a balcony, a ladder, a getaway car, a flashlight..." I said as I resumed pacing.

"Ada, calm down and park it," Mama told me as she led me over to a chair. But she was still smiling. "Everything is under control."

"Do you think Papa and Giovanni would be happy for me?" I asked.

"I'm sure they would," Mama answered happily, and the four of us hugged. I'm not too sure, but I think I saw tears forming in Mama's eyes. If there were, I knew it was because she missed Papa and Giovanni, and was also happy for Tony and me.

This was the happiest day of my life.


	4. Ada 4

**ADA 4**

_July 1, 1916_

I was standing in front of the full-length mirror in my room in the wedding dress that Mama and I had made. It was a white dress with beads on the skirt. Mama pinned my veil to my head with a few hairpins. "You look beautiful," she said.

"Thank you, Mama," I answered.

Just then, my sisters came into my room, wearing lavender dresses. They were going to be my bridesmaids. Bettina, who was now seventeen, would be helping Mama in the dress shop and starting her senior year of high school. Antonia, who was now fourteen, would be starting high school in the fall.

"Ready?" Bettina asked. I nodded.

We went down the stairs and got in the car that would take us to the church. When we arrived, I didn't see Tony or his family, but I think that was just as well, because it's supposed to be bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other before the ceremony. Our wedding party to this would be Bettina, Antonia, as well as Tony's brother Stefano, who's a year younger than Bettina, and Nunzio, who's a year older than Antonia. Our ring bearer and flower girl were Tony's six-year-old twin siblings, Jane and Franco. His sister, Inga, who's Bettina's age, and brother, James, who's a year younger than Antonia, completed the ensemble.

Before too long, the ceremony got underway. Since Papa was now deceased, I'd asked Uncle Giacomo to walk me down the aisle. When we started walking past the pews, I felt tears coming to my eyes, and hoped I'd be able to keep it together.

"You okay?" Uncle Giacomo asked.

I nodded, somehow managing to keep myself from falling apart. Mama, on the other hand, was crying her eyes out, as was Mrs. Russo.

When we got to the altar, where the rest of the wedding party was waiting, the priest asked, "Who giveth this woman to this man?"

"I do," Uncle Giacomo answered, then sat down with the rest of his family in the second row.

The ceremony soon got underway. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, and when the priest pronounced us husband and wife, Tony and I kissed, and the crowd cheered. It was the happiest moment of my life.

The reception took place at Tony's parents' house. The only ones there were our parents and siblings, and Uncle Giacomo, Aunt Sarah, and Giorgio, who was now sixteen, came, too. After we finished eating, Uncle Giacomo walked us out to our car.

"Have fun on our honeymoon," he said as he opened the passenger door and helped me into the car.

"We will," Tony promised. We were going to have such a fun-filled trip and life together.

The sun was already setting when we arrived in Yonkers. With both of us living in the city, and with so many people in our families—Tony's, specifically—we were both glad to be spending our honeymoon someplace quiet.

"Well, here we are!" Tony cheerfully announced as we pulled up beside the cabin. It was a small log one surrounded by evergreen trees and built right next to a lake. There wasn't another soul in sight, and the only sounds were the crickets chirping and the loons calling.

When we got out of the car and went inside (yes, Tony carried me over the threshold), we got a good look at the cabin itself. In the far left corner was a wooden bed with a plaid blanket on an overstuffed mattress and there was an old-fashioned wood-burning stove right near the front door, as well as a wooden table and two chairs in the middle of the room. Upon inspecting the cabinets and the fridge, I saw that they were fully-stocked, although the only milk there was the powdered kind, which I knew wouldn't be too hard to make. Anyway, the cabin looked like something out of the pioneer days, like I'd seen pictures of in one of my books when I was a kid. Well, except it had running water, indoor plumbing and a bathroom, but you get the idea.

"I love it, Tony," I whispered as he set me down.

"I knew you would," he smiled, and we gave each other a kiss. "My grandfather used to come here every summer when he was young, and he said he wanted us to spend our honeymoon here."

"I can see why he loves this place," I commented. "You could hear a pin drop up here."

"You sure could," Tony agreed. "Say, Ada, I was just thinking, it's just the two of us, and we're right next to the lake, so I thought maybe we could go for a swim."

Don't get me wrong, I love Tony to pieces, and was thankful to have him for a husband, but even I have to admit I was a little surprised. "Really?" I asked. "Well, we didn't pack our bathing suits."

"Darling, we're in the country," he told me, putting his arms around my wasit. "Folks out here don't wear bathing suits. And who's going to see us, anyway?"

"Well—can I think about it?"

"Sure. How much time do you need?"

"About three seconds. One-two-three-_yes!" _I exclaimed happily. After we brought our luggage inside, we went out back, took our clothes off, and dove into the lake.

Let me tell you a little something about swimming without a bathing suit. It was exhilarating. It was also the first time I'd ever done something like that. The only times I've ever taken my clothes off were for changing, and taking a bath or shower, and I always wore a bathing suit when I swam. Plus, this was the first time Tony and I had ever seen each other naked. I guess you could say that up until then, I was a prim and proper kind of girl, maybe even shy and modest. But like Tony said, we were out in the country, and there was no one else around, so except for the occasional mosquito, we had nothing to worry about. In that moment, I really couldn't have asked for anything more.

_April 1, 1918_

Tony helped me out of the car at the doctor's office. I'd been feeling sick for the past week, and did not know what was wrong.

When it was our turn, Tony stayed out in the waiting room, and I went back to Dr. Berk's examining room. After I described how I'd been feeling, the doctor examined me and said, "Well, Mrs. Russo, it sounds like you're pregnant, but let's examine you again just to be sure."

"Okay," I agreed as I laid back on the table and the doctor examined me again.

"Yup," the doctor agreed. "I'd say by the time this war's over, you'll have a baby of your own."

I couldn't help smiling. Despite what was going on in the world, I was just over the moon.

"Shall I bring your husband back?" the doctor asked. I nodded.

A few minutes later, Tony joined us in the examining room. "What is it, Doctor?" he asked.

"Well, your wife is going to have a baby," the doctor answered. "Like I was telling her, I'm guessing that by the time this war's over, you'll have a child of your own."

"Oh, Ada, that's wonderful!" he exclaimed, giving me a hug. Then, shaking the doctor's hand, he said, "Thank you."

Tony and I left the doctor's office, and got in our car. We just couldn't believe our wonderful news.

On our way home, we stopped by the dress shop. Mama and my sisters were finishing up for the day. Bettina, who was getting ready to turn nineteen, had just gotten engaged, and her wedding would be within the next year. Until then, she'd be helping Mama in the dress shop, and like me before her, Mama would be helping her with her wedding dress. Antonia, who was now sixteen, was a sophomore in high school.

"Hi, Mama," I said as we stepped into the dress shop.

"Hi, Ada; hi, Tony," Mama said. "What's the good news?"

"Well, you're about to become a grandmother by the time this war is over, or by Thanksgiving, whichever comes first," I answered.

"Congratulations," Bettina said. "Will that mean I'm an aunt before I even get married?"

"That's right," I answered. "And if we need a baby-sitter, you'll be the first one we call."

"Great," Bettina said.

"And if you ever need a backup, I can help," Antonia volunteered.

And with that, a whole new generation of Russos was about to begin.

_November 10, 1918_

If you were to ask any woman who's expecting her first child what it feels like, they'll tell you that it's no picnic. And believe me, it wasn't. I'd slept fitfully all night, and the morning sickness and wild food cravings didn't help much, either.

When I woke up that morning, I felt my stomach muscles contracting, and I somehow knew it was time. "Tony," I said when I came into the kitchen. "Get the doctor!"

"All right," he agreed, grabbing his coat. "Just sit tight and I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail." He put on his coat and ran out to the car as I went back to bed.

Within minutes, the doctor came back. "It's okay, Mrs. Russo," he said. "You'll have this baby before the day's over."

"Anything I can do?" Tony asked.

"Just try to keep yourself busy," the doctor answered. "Go about your day as you normally would."

Tony nodded, then left the room. I assumed he was going to the newspaper office to do some work. Even though it was Sunday, I figured he'd probably crank out the Sunday paper on the printing press, then deliver it to all the newsstands, as was his custom when we got home from church.

Tony came back around noon for lunch. "Guess what I just heard in town?" he told me and the doctor. "The war will be over at 11:00 tomorrow morning."

"That's great," I said as the contraction ceased.

"She'll be having this baby within the hour, too," the doctor said.

Tony nodded as he fixed himself some lunch. "Can I get you anything?" he asked the doctor.

"No, thanks," Dr. Berk answered. "I just ate."

After Tony finished lunch, he said, "Well, I'll stay here with you, since it's apparently getting close to time for the baby to be born."

"Okay," I whispered, grimacing in pain. By then, I was starting to get the urge to push this baby out.

"Okay," the doctor said. "One..two...three...bear down!"

After about half an hour of pushing, we heard a baby's cry. "It's a girl!" the doctor announced.

"A girl?" Tony repeated in amazement. "I have a daughter?"

"That's right," the doctor said. "And she's perfectly healthy."

I fell back against the pillows. "Alice," I sobbed, naming her after my cousin. She had been my age, and had died of scarlet fever when we were nine.

"Alice, it is," Tony agreed, and the doctor signed the birth certificate.

Becoming a mother just as the war was coming to an end was such a joyous moment. And as Tony and I held each other and looked down at our new little baby, we thought of Papa, Giovanni, David, and his family. We knew they were watching over us from heaven, and like us, they couldn't be happier.


	5. Part 2: Alice Russo

**PART TWO: Alice Russo**

_March 4, 1933_

It was a rainy, gloomy evening in the Bronx. The country was in the midst of the Great Depression, which meant that almost everybody was either out of work, or stuck in some dead-end job that paid next to squat. The crime rate was skyrocketing, and it seemed like every time you turned on the radio or picked up a newspaper, there would be yet another story about the shenanigans of John Dillinger, Machine Gun Kelly, Baby Face Nelson, or whoever else was Public Enemy #1, and how Hoover and his G-men, despite their best efforts, were falling all over themselves trying to maintain law and order, or lack thereof. And the one song you were almost guaranteed to hear on the radio was "Brother Can You Spare A Dime?" The only bright side of things, as any average Joe would tell you, was that Prohibition had finally been repealed.

Anyway, we were all sitting in the living room of our house: my parents, my twelve-year-old brother, Jacopo, my ten-year-old sister, Pia, my eight-year-old sister, Renata, my six-year-old sister, Jessica, and me, Alice. We were listening to the new president, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, or as history would later call him, FDR, give his inauguration speech on the radio. _"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself," _he said.

Despite the shape our country was in, I still had a feeling that there was hope for us yet. You see, Father lost his job at the newspaper office about three years ago, and we were all working as hard as we could just to make ends meet.

Okay, let me back it up here. My name's Alice Russo, and I'm fourteen years old. My parents came to America from Italy as teenagers. Father came when he was thirteen, and my Aunt Jane and Uncle Franco, who are twins, were the only ones of his siblings born in America. Mother came over on the _Titanic _when she was seventeen with her parents, brother, and sisters. Sadly, my grandfather and uncle went down with the ship, but my grandmother, or Grams, as my siblings and I call her, along with Mother and my aunts, Bettina and Antonia, survived, and settled here in New York. Mother and my aunts had been flappers during the Roaring Twenties, and all was going well until the stock market crashed in 1929. Now that I look back on it, even I have to admit that somebody should've seen it coming. Soon after that happened, like I said, Father lost his job, and we were all doing everything we could just to make some bread. My parents both took jobs at a butcher shop in Brooklyn. Jacopo started a paper route, my sisters would work alongside the fruit and vegetable sellers on the corner, and I got a job helping Grams in her dress shop, one of the few that was able to stay open after the crash. It was tough, exhausting, and not at all fun, but if this was what we had to do to survive, then so be it.

After the address was over, Father reached over and shut off the radio. "Boy, that's optimism if I've ever heard it," he commented.

"I'll say," Jacopo agreed. "With the way things are these days, you'd have to be if you were in his position."

"Father?" Jessica asked. "What did the president mean when he said the only thing we have to fear is fear itself?"

"What that means is, there's no point in worrying about what's going to happen next," I explained. "Remember when I was sick in the hospital with scarlet fever last year?"

"I sure do," Jessica answered. "I was so scared that you were going to die."

"Just like Beth in _Little Women," _Renata addd, putting a comforting arm around Jessica, who nodded. "But she didn't die, did she?" I could tell she was trying to make sense of all this."

"What your sister means, Jessica, is that we shouldn't lose faith in our country, just like we never lost faith in the doctors who took care of your sister," Mother said. "We should believe that President Roosevelt will know what to do, and have faith that he'll do what's best for the country, okay?"

"Okay, Mother," Jessica nodded.

"All right, everybody, it's time to get ready for bed now," Father told us, and we all got up from the floor to do as we were told. All the while, I knew we had to have faith, but at the same time, I still couldn't help being concerned about what direction things were going to go.

_Christmas Eve, 1936_

Winter soon arrived, and like most New York winters, it was a brutal one. Not only was it bitterly cold, but the fruit and vegetable sellers couldn't sell their wares. And I couldn't blame them, either. Besides catching your death in the subzero temperatures, it wasn't good for the produce. So instead of fruits and vegetables, they sold chicken soup, rye bread, hot tea or cider, and coffee. Sure, it wasn't as appetitzing, but it kept folks warm and fed. And besides, who would want to buy or eat frozen fruit? I sure wouldn't!

But enough about that. Christmas was on its way. Wonderful, glorious, beautiful Christmas, and even though people wouldn't really have much this year, it still gave them something to look forward to.

It was still snowing a litte when my family and I were getting out of the car to attend Midnight Mass: Jacopo, now sixteen; Pia, now thirteen; Renata, now twelve; and Jessica, now ten. Nearby, I could see a boy about my age getting out of another car with his family. His brother looked aobut Pia's age, and his sister looked about Jessica's age. The first thing I noticed about them was that they all had blond hair and blue eyes. Unfortunately, in this day and age, that meant you were suspected of being a Nazi sympathizer. That really made me mad, because my family and I know plenty of blond, blue-eyed people, and I happen to know that they're as opposed to Hitler, the Third Reich, and everythig it stands for, as much as the next person.

"Hi," I said to the boy as we made our way toward the church. "I've seen you around school. You're in some of my classes, right?"

"That's right," he answered. And the way he smiled at me, I just knew he was no crumb. "We just moved here from Minnesota over the summer: my parents, Elena (the girl), and Christopher (the boy). I'm sorry I never got a chance to talk to you. I'm Paul Everett."

"Alice Russo," I said as I shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Paul."

"You, too," Paul said. "So, do you live around here?"

"All my life. You see, my parents came to America from Italy as teenagers," I began. "Mother and her family came over on the _Titanic. _My grandfather and uncle went down with the ship, but my mother, grandmother, and Mother's two sisters survived. Father came to America when he was thirteen, and he and his siblings, except for the two youngest, were born in Italy."

"Wow, that's really something," Paul commented.

"How about you?"

"Well, my father and his family moved to America from Austria in 1905," Paul told me. "They settled in San Francisco, until my grandfather was killed in the 1906 earthquake, and then they moved to Minnesota. My mother and her fmaily, which were her parents and brother, settled in Minnesota after their arrival in America in 1909," he said.

"Wow," I said. Then for a minute or so, we just stood there, looking at each other, not moving or saying a word. He was, without a doubt, the single most handsome boy I'd ever seen in my life.

"Well, I should go sit with my family now," he said at last, looking over his shoulder. "Abyssinia."

"You, too."

"He seems like a nice boy," Mother observed. "You know, I felt the same way when I first met your father."

"Really?" I asked. Mother nodded. "Say, uh—I was wondering if...well, you know, their hair color and all..."

"I know what you're trying to ask me, dear," Mother interrupted. "And no, I don't think they're on the side of the Germans. They didn't look at us like we were on Mussolini's side, did they?"

"Well—no," I admitted. "But still, nowadays, you can't be too sure."

"Well, like your grandmother says, you can't judge a book by its cover," Father pointed out as we took our seats. That's the one thing I've always loved about my father. No matter what's going on in the world, he always seems to know what he's talking about.

It was such a wonderful service, and I couldn't wait to get home and open my Christmas presents.

The next morning after my family and I had their gift exchange, we got a house full of people. There was Grams, my Aunt Bettina, Uncle John, and their children: Jane, who's a year between Pia and Jacopo, Giuseppe (pronounced juh-ZEP-pee), who's Renata's age, and Elise, who's nine, and my Aunt Antonia, Uncle Rick, and my cousin, Samantha, or Sam, as my siblings and I call her, who's seven.

After we had the big family dinner and the gift exchange, Mother stood up and said, "Alice, would you join me up here, please?"

"Sure," I answered. I stood beside my mother. She reached into her apron pocket, pulled something out, and handed it to me. It was a necklace with a pendant that was shaped like a four-leaf clover.

"This necklace was given to me by an Irish boy I met on _Titanic," _Mother explained. "He was my first true love before your father. Even though he went down with the ship, along with his father, your grandfather, and your Uncle Giovanni, I've kept it all these years as a reminder of my first true love, and now, it'll be our first family heirloom. It belonged to me, and now, with you being the first-born girl of your generation, I pass it on to you."

"Oh, Mother, it's beautiful," I said as tears filled my eyes.

"Would you like me to put it on you?"

"Yes, please." I turned around and lifted my hair. Mother put the necklace around my neck.

"It's brought me good luck over the past twenty-four years," Mother said as she fastened the clasp. "In fact, it's so lucky, I never had a miscarriage or problems during childbirth because I was wearing it."

"Thank you so much," I choked.

"You're welcome," she answered.

"Your turn, Jacopo," Father said. Jacopo stood next to Father. In his hand was a gold and onyx ring with the flag of Italy engraved on the side. Right in the center of the onyx was a tiny sparkling diamond, no bigger than a raspberry seed. "This ring has been in my family since my great-grandfather was a newlywed, and was given to him by my great-grandmother on our wedding night, then was given to me by my father on my eighteenth birthday," he said, handing it to Jacopo. "Now, it belongs to you, since you are the first-born son of your generation."

"Thank you, Father," Jacopo said, putting the ring on his finger. And he started getting misty-eyed, too. "I'll keep it forever."

These were the best presents in the world.

_Valentine's Day, 1938_

Valentine's Day was always one of my favorite holidays, especially when I was starting to enter my teenage years. When I was twelve, this one boy in my class, Michael Parker, asked me to go to the movies with him. It was a double feature: _All Quiet on the Western Front _and _A Free Soul. _The one thing I remember the most about that was that it was the first time I'd ever held hands with a boy. And I don't mean while playing ring-around-the-rosy, either. No, this time, it was with a boy I actually liked, and we were at that age where it meant something. Naturally, when you're that young, you think it's a sign that you two were meant to me, which, of course, we weren't. In fact, when I saw him over Easter, on his arm was my worst enemy on the planet, Mary Jane O'Hanlon. Oh, well. Like Mother told me at the time, his loss.

Tonight, however, that wasn't going to happen. Paul and I were going out to dinner at this Italian restaurant on Park and 73rd, and then to see _You Can't Take It With You. _And boy, when he showed up at the front door, he was togged to the bricks.

"Hi, Alice," he smiled warmly. "You look great."

"Thanks," I grinned. "So do you." With that, he leaned over and kissed my hand. I don't know what shade of red my face turned when he did that, but it sure felt hot.

"Well, shall we get going?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'll just grab my coat," I said, and turned to open the closet. After finding it and putting it on, I closed the door to find Renata and Jessica standing there with mile-wide grins. If there's one thing I can always expect to happen whenever Paul shows up, it's my two little sisters giggling nonstop and making kissing sounds.

"Don't even think about it," I whispered firmly. And for once, they kept quiet. Well, at least until we walked out the door. Other than that, we still had a wonderful time.

Paul and I had been dating for over a year, and in my mind, that was long enough before thinking about marriage. When you think about it, we were old enough, knew each other well enough, and mature enough to take that step.

"Hi, Alice," he said when I answered the door the next afternoon after our date to the movies. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure," I answered. I had a feeling I knew what was going to happen next.

"You are the nicest dame in the world, and I can't think of another woman I'd like to spend the rest of my life with," he said. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes," I whispered as he slipped the ring onto my finger. It was the prettiest ring ever made by human hands: yellow-gold ring with a tiny circle of diamonds in the center.

"Thank you for making me the happiest man in the world, Alice," he said, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

I smiled through my tears, then we were locked in a long and passionate kiss.

_"Whoo-oo," _I heard my siblings say as they passed by.

"Well, got to go," I told Paul as we broke away from the kiss. "I'm sure my parents would have some objections to me killing my younger siblings."

"Abyssinia," Paul laughed, and he walked out the door.

"What was that all about?" Father asked as soon as Paul was out of sight.

"Well..." I said, holding out my hand to show my parents.

"That's so pretty, honey," Mother said. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," I said.

"What's going on?" Jacopo, now seventeen, asked.

"Well, gather 'round," I said.

The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by my sisters: Pia, now fifteen; Renata, now thirteen; and Jessica, now eleven.

"Wow, that's so pretty, Alice," Pia said when she saw my ring.

"Thanks. Paul and I are tentatively planning on next summer."

"I'll let you wear my wedding dress," Mother said.

"Really? Thanks."

"If you do decide to elope, I promise not to beat him up," Jacopo said.

"Okay," I laughed. Jacopo normally wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone another person. In fact, he only got into a fight at school once, which, of course, got him sent to the principal's office.

"Well, let's get started with wedding plans," Father said.

"I know for a fact that I want Jane to be my maid of honor," I said. "And I want Pia and Renata to be my bridesmaids."

"What about me?" Jessica asked. "I'm too old to be a flower girl."

"We'll find something for you to do," I promised. "And no, we're not going to make you head usher."

"Thanks," she laughed. Then, just to be silly, she picked up an imaginary guitar, looked me in the eye, and started singing, _"Swing lo-ow, sweet cha-a-rio-ot—_I'm sorry, those seats are for the family—_comin' for to carry me ho-o-ome..."_

Well, needless to say, we all went into hysterical laughter. Even though Jessica was clearly trying to make me feel guilty for not including her, and we all knew it, it was still pretty funny.

"Okay, Jessica, okay," Mother managed to say as we pulled ourselves together. "I'm sure Alice will let you sing at the wedding."

"Sure, why not?" I asked. "You always did have such a wonderful voice."

"Thanks, Sis," Jessica grinned, and we gave each other a hug.

This was going to be the most wonderful day of my life.


	6. Alice 2

A/N: In case you're wondering, the character of Morris Goldberg is the Stevenson twins' maternal grandfather from when he was a kid.

**ALICE 2**

_August 26, 1939_

After a seemingly endless round of good-byes and best wishes from our families and friends, Paul and I got in the car and started making our way from our wedding reception, preparing to take our honeymoon in Toronto. We planned to stay in New York City that night, and go on to Toronto the next day.

When we passed by the Roxy, I saw on the marquee that _The Wizard of Oz _was playing there. I'd loved the books when I was a kid, so I thought the movie would be something interesting.

"Hey, look!" I shouted excitedly as I pointed out the window.

_"The Wizard of Oz, _huh?" Paul said. "I've heard a lot of my friends say it was really swell. Well, namely my friends' little siblings, but they enjoyed it, too."

"Shall we check out the movie?" I asked.

"Sure, why not?" he answered, parking the car. We went up to the ticket booth, got our tickets, and went inside the theater.

The movie was the most amazing one I'd seen in years. It was also the first time I'd seen a movie that used both black-and-white and color. I always liked Judy Garland, but this was the movie that really made her my idol. It wouldn't have surprised me if it won or got nominated for Best Picture, although it was up against some pretty tough competitors, like _Gone With The Wind _and _Mr. Smith Goes To Washington, _to name a few. All in all, it was, and still is, one of my favorite movies.

In fact, as we were coming out of the movie theatre, Paul got the silly idea for us to link arms and start skipping and singing "We're Off To See The Wizard". I don't know if he noticed passersby giving him strange looks, but I sure did. I still found it funny, though.

"Paul, stop it!' I laughed. Not only were people staring at us, but when it comes to dancing, I'm as graceful as a hippo on ice skates.

"Okay, okay," he said. "Just had to get it out of my system. And besides, with our honeymoon and all, don't you kind of feel like Dorothy and her friends?"

"I suppose," I agreed. As we got back in the car, I felt like I was the luckiest dame that ever lived.

We arrived at the Plaza Hotel, where we were going to spend the night. The room was a small suite, not exactly like the big rooms on the executive floor or anything like that, but still pretty nice. It had a queen-size bed and a desk with a lamp, a telephone, and the radio sitting on it. The bathroom was pretty snazzy, too. It had a bathtub and shower stall, with towels and washcloths hanging on the racks, and the little white bars of soap on the edge of the tub, not to mention a little wicker basket sitting on the sink with shampoo, toothpaste, bubble bath, and extra soap.

"Well, shall we take our bath?" Paul asked, smiling that mischievous smile I'd come to know and love.

I studied the tub for a minute. "Well, it looks like a pretty tight squeeze for both of us," I said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm nuts about bubble baths, especially after a long day at the dress shop, but the shower stall looks like it has more room. I'll tell you what. Let's save our bath for when we get to Toronto."

"Deal," Paul agreed. And we got undressed and in the shower.

As we were showering, it reminded me of the time Mother showed me some of the pictures from her honeymoon. One of the things she told me was how she and Father had gone skinny-dipping in the lake behind their cabin. She was a little hesitant at first, but when Father reassured her that no one would see them, she just jumped right in, so to speak. And from that day on, with the exception of the YWCA, she never swam with a bathing suit again. And come to think of it, neither do my siblings and I. I wondered what Paul would say if I told him, or how hard I'd have to twist his arm to get him to try it. (And in case you're wondering, there are no pictures of them skinny-dipping.)

After our shower, we dried off, and Paul carried me out of the bathroom and over to the bed. After setting me down, he went around to the other side and laid down beside me. "Good night," he said, kissing my cheek, as he turned off the light.

"Good night," I answered, settling myself on his shoulder. I can't even begin to tell you how safe I felt, drifting off to sleep with his strong, muscular arms around me. In that moment, the future was truly ours.

_September 2, 1939-May 1, 1941_

When we were coming back from our honeymoon, we were just over the moon. Not only had we seen one of the most successful movies to date, but we'd also been to Canada. And let me tell you, it is just beautiful up there, especially Toronto. For such a big city, it looked so clean and friendly, as opposed to New York. I honestly couldn't remember the last time I'd had that much fun.

Which is why we weren't expecting the news we'd get when we got home.

I was unpacking in the bedroom at our apartment in the Bronx when I heard Paul calling from the kitchen, "Alice!"

From the tone of his voice, I knew right away that something was terribly wrong. "What is it?" I asked as I joined my husband. And there he was, standing beside the table, newspaper in hand, and a worried look on his face. When I leaned over to look at the paper, that's when I saw the headline on the front page:

**HITLER APPROVES GERMAN OCCUPATION OF WARSAW, POLAND**

_**Europe Goes To War**_

"Oh, dear God, no," I whispered in disbelief. I could feel my knees buckling, and my body sinking into the chair beside me. It's a wonder I didn't miss the chair and fall right on my kiester, now that I think about it.

I think we all knew that it would come to this, but nobody was really prepared for when it would actually come to pass, least of all, Poland. I couldn't even bear to think about what they were going through over there, being driven out of their homes, or even the Jews being sent to concentration camps. And on top of all that, with Paul's and my heritage, we could only expect harsher treatment from other people, especially now that this had happened.

Paul must have known how I was feeling, because the next thing I knew, he was standing beside me with his hands on my shoulders. All I could do to keep myself from falling apart was to take his hand in both of mine and hold on for dear life.

The war in Europe had been going on for almost two years. In fact, soon after it started, with the physical differences between me and Paul, living in the Bronx because even more unbearable, not to mention dangerous. Besides having to listen to people shout things like, "Nazi-lover!", "Kraut!", and "Fascist!" at us as they passed by, we were constantly worrying about the possibility of someone waiting at our home to jump us, or even worse, coming home to find that our house had been vandalized.

One night in the spring of 1940, we were woken up by the sound of one of our windows being broken. Throwing on his robe, Paul snatched up the baseball bat he'd started keeping under his side of the bed, and raced out of the room like a shot. I guess I was still half-asleep, because when I went to the living room, I felt a sharp pain rip its way through my right foot. _"Aargh, merda!" _I screamed through clenched teeth as I sank to the floor, clutching my foot. I looked down and saw a tiny piece of glass embedded in the ball of my foot, which was covered in blood. I couldn't believe that a piece of glass that size could hurt that much.

"Here, honey," Paul said, handing me a wet washcloth. As I dabbed away some of the blood, Paul hurried to the bathroom and returned with some cotton balls, bandages, peroxide, and a pair of tweezers. "Now, I want you to take a deep breath. This will hurt."

I tok the deepest possible breath I could, and held it as Paul gently and carefully pulled the glass out of my foot, then applied the cloth to the cut, which didn't hurt at all, even when he got the glass out. I think maybe I was too angry to feel any pain.

Well, what I saw next really made my blood boil.

Paul helped me into the living room, being careful where he stepped, and sat me on the couch so he could get a better look at my foot. As he cleaned the cut, I looked over and saw a brick, a rubber band, and a slip of paper on the coffee table. And I'm not going to tell you what was written on that paper, but it sure was nasty. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if whoever wrote that was struck dead by God Himself.

The rest of that night seemed to drag on forever, with Paul sweeping up the glass and covering up the broken window, as well as both of us telling the cops what had happened. And as long as I live, I'll never know how either of us got any more sleep. But somehow, we did.

At any rate, though, we both knew what had to happen after this: we had to move.

The Fourth of July had already come and gone when we moved. We'd gotten a house in this Long Island neighborhood called Old Woodbury, and it was really nice. It had two bedrooms, one of which we'd use as a guest room. If the time came for us to start a family, we'd convert it into our child's room, and if we had more than one child, we'd probably have to move into a bigger house. Right now, we only planned on having two.

"Well, here we are!" Paul announced as we arrived at the house. We got out of the car and started unloading some of our stuff just as the moving van arrived with our furniture. It was going to be quite a job, but luckily for us, it was a sunny day with nary a cloud in sight, so we didn't have to worry about the rain.

"Hi!" a voice called. I turned around, and standing in the front yard next door was a grinning little boy who looked about six or seven years old. He had dark brown hair that looked almost black, olive skin, and deep brown eyes, and was wearing a yellow plaid short-sleeved shirt and dark blue overalls that were cut off at the knees. And when he smiled, he had a space in both rows of his teeth and an emerging front tooth in the top row. He was _adorable!_

"Hi, there," I answered cheerfully. "I'm Mrs. Everett."

"Are you our new neighbors?" he asked. For a total stranger, he sure looked happy to see me.

"Yes, we are," I said. "What's your name, dear?"

"Morris Goldberg," he said. "I've lived here all my life, and I love it."

"That's nice," I commented. And believe me, I was sure glad to see a friendly face after what we'd been through in the Bronx.

"Say, my mom and dad are inside," Morris said as he leaned against the fence. "Well, actually, Dad and Reuben are at work, so it's just Mom and me right now."  
"Reuben?"

"My brother. He's fifteen. He and Dad work at Phillips' Farm on the edge of town."

"Really? That's where Mr. Everett works. You know, my husband."

"Do you have any kids?" Morris asked. I don't know why, but I kind of expected him to ask me that. After all, if you were his age and a new family was moving in next door to you, wouldn't you wonder the same thing?

"Well, not yet, but soon, we hope."

"My mom's inside. Want me to go get her? Great. I'll be right back." And off into his house he scampered. He was running so fast that you could've heard the bottoms of his bare feet slapping on the sidewalk from practically a mile away.

"Seems like a nice kid," Paul commented as he passed by with an armload of books.

"I'll say," I agreed, taking a few of the books from him.

Within minutes, the Goldbergs' front door opened again, and out came Morris with his mother. She was a tiny woman, I'd say a head shorter than me, and had on a greenish-white short-sleeved blouse and sepia-toned skirt. And like her son, she had the same hair and eye color, not to mention the same ear-to-ear grin. The only difference was that she wore glasses.

"Hello," she said warmly in her really thick Yiddish accent. "I see you've met my Morris. I'm Leah Goldberg."

"Alice Everett, and this is my husband, Paul," I smiled. "Nice to meet you."

"You as well," Leah smiled. "Welcome to the neighborhood."

"Thank you," Paul said. "And what a nice kid you have, too."

"Yes, he's the neighborhood welcoming committee," Leah joked. "Whenever a new family moves into this neighborhood, he's always ready to greet them."

"I'll say," I agreed. "He was just telling me about Phillips' Farm where your husband and other son work."

"Yes, they're nice people. I remember when my oldest son worked there during the summer."

"You have another son?"

"Alan. He just turned twenty-one last week." I nodded, because Paul and I are also that age. "His father and I wish he could've celebrated here with us, but he's been away for the last six months. He's in the Navy."

Upon hearing that, I thought of the time Father told me about my Uncle Stefano—his brother—who had been in the Navy, and had been stationed in Nova Scotia during the Great War. Sadly, he was killed when a munitions ship blew up in December of 1917. If hearing the news of Uncle Stefano's death was upsetting for Father, I could only imagine how Leah would take it if something happened to Alan.

"Well, Morris and I could give you a hand with moving your stuff into your house, and maybe after we finish, you could come over for lunch," Leah finally suggested, "and maybe you could come over for dinner sometime. My husband Harry is quite the cook. You should try his _latkes _sometime."

"And his matzo ball soup isn't too shabby, either," Morris added as he bounced up and down on his toes. "Dad knows how to make it taste just right."

"Sounds great," I said. And believe me, after the long drive we'd had, I sure was famished!

So far, I had a pretty good feeling about this neighborhood.

The following spring, I was hanging the wash out on the line. We'd had a pretty good year in Old Woodbury, thanks to the Goldbergs. They invited us to share their Chanukah with them, and in return, we invited them over for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Morris would sometimes stop by after school and see if I needed help with anything. Paul was usually at work with Harry and Reuben Goldberg, so I was basically on my own during the day. Well, except for when Morris was there helping me with whatever chore I was doing. Other times, he'd come over just to spend time with me. He was one of the most well-mannered kids I'd met in a long time, and best of all, he wasn't so quick to judge Paul and me due to our Italian and Austrian heritage. Leah once told me that because they're Jewish, some people aren't exactly chummy with them, either, and that's why she's always told her boys to never judge people without getting to know them first.

I'd just finished hanging out the last of the sheets on the line when Paul pulled into the driveway. The instant I heard the car arrive, I hurried into the house to meet him. I had such wonderful news that I couldn't wait to tell him.

"Hi, sweetheart," he smiled as we kissed. "You sure look chipper today."

"Well, I have something to tell you," I said. "Remember when I said that spare bedroom would come in handy someday?"

"Yeah, I think so," Paul remembered. And that's when it hit him. He slowly turned toward me, his eyes as big as saucers. "Alice, are you—are...?"

_Starts with a P, _I thought, but instead, I nodded ecstatically.

Well, folks, it didn't take Paul long to figure it out. With a loud cheer, he grabbed me around the waist and spun me around in the air. We were both laughing and cheering so loudly, I wondered if the whole neighborhood could hear us. Evidently, someone did, because when Paul set me down, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Leah and Harry had come outside.

"Well, what are we celebrating?" Harry asked.

"Alice is going to have a baby," Paul announced.

_"Mazeltov," _Leah said, giving me a hug. "You know, I still have some of Morris' old baby clothes I could give you, if it's a boy."

"Really? Thanks."

"You're more than welcome."

"Hey, what's going on?" Morris asked as he ran across the yard, his schoolbag banging against his knees.

"Remember when you asked us if we had any kids?" I asked. He nodded. "Well, we're about to."

"Hey, great!" he exclaimed. "Just don't ask me to help change diapers, okay? I can bring you clean ones or the baby powder, but that's it."

"Deal," I laughed. Was this our lucky day or what?

_December 8, 1941_

It was _just starting _to snow as dawn broke in Manhattan. I was in my hospital room, cradling my two-day-old son, John, and reflecting on the birth. Like Mother before me, I'd worn that necklace she'd given me for Christmas when I was eighteen, and I'd had no complications during the birth. Well, unless you count the severity of the pain I was in. In fact, on one of the contractions, it hurt so much that I was reduced to screaming Italian profanity at the top of my lungs. On the upside, Paul was outside in the waiting room during the actual delivery, so he was spared from any physical harm from me, intentionally or otherwise. It was exhausting for me, of course, but I didn't think it would affect him as much, which is why he was fast asleep in the chair beside my bed. I also hoped that when it was time to leave the hospital, I wouldn't be so crazy that Paul would ask the doctor, "Can't we just keep hospitalin' 'til Alice gets her brains back?" If he did, I'd have to smack him.

"Good morning, my darlings," I whispered to them both. "It's only snowing a little out there, but don't worry. We're all warm and toasty in here, and I don't think the roads will get too bad for awhile now." Then, looking down at John, I asked, "Are you hungry?"

In response, he started fussing and squirming in my arms. "Shh, it's okay, honey," I reassured him. "We're going to take care of that. How about some music, too?"

Luckily, the radio was right beside me, so I was able to turn it on without disturbing him. "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town" by Bing Crosby & the Andrews Sisters was playing, and I was singing along with them as I got ready to nurse John. Paul was waking up then.

"Good morning, family," he yawned happily. "Sleep well?"

"I'll say," I agreed. "You?"

"Oh, on and off. Not that I'm complaining, though, but sleeping on this chair is about as relaxing as an ironing board."

I knew what he was getting at, but I still found it funny.

"Well, I'm going to get some coffee," Paul said as he stood up. "You want anything?"

"I don't have much of an appetite right now, but maybe some Cream of Wheat."

"Sure, I'll talk to the nurse. Yup, nothing says 'Good morning' like coffee, Cream of Wheat, and the Andrews Sisters."

You know what? As long as I live, I'll never understand how it was physically possible for me to laugh and concentrate on nursing at the same time.

No sooner had Paul turned around to start out the door did we hear President Roosevelt's voice coming on after the song ended.

_"Yesterday, December 7, 1941, a date which will live in infamy,"_ he announced in a grim voice. That was all it took for my husband to stop dead in his tracks. He slowly turned toward me, and I can honestly tell you that I will never forget the look on his face for as long as I live.

"Not again," I whispered in horror. I couldn't believe it. First the Nazis invade Poland, now this. Tears came to my eyes and cascaded down my face as the news of how many casualties came in, which turned out to be over three thousand. I was shocked that that many people lost their lives that day, and I wondered if Alan Goldberg was one of them. I prayed to God that he was not.

"Here, sweetheart, I'll take John for you," Paul said gently.

"Hmm? Oh, yes," I said, snapping out of my disbelieving trance, and handing him the baby. As Paul burped John and laid him in his isolette, I took my necklace and crossed myself, my eyes down the whole time.

_Dear Heavenly Father, _I prayed, _please let Alan be okay. Please watch over our country, our servicemen, and their loved ones. Please be with Paul and me, and both of our families. In Your name and infinite wisdom, we ask for your guidance, protection, and love. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen._


	7. Part 3: John Everett

**PART THREE: John Everett**

_August 1, 1956_

_ "One gi-irl, one bo-oy, one dre-eam, one jo-oy. Me-e-e-mo-ries a-are made of thi-is..."  
_That's what was playing on the jukebox at Doc's Malt Shop that afternoon, and I was singing right along with Dean Martin as I wiped off the countertop. It wasn't the most exciting job in the world, but then again, what part-time job is, right? And because I was only fourteen, I worked twice a week. Oh, well. Bread is bread.

I guess I was being a little loud, because when I looked up from refilling the napkin holder, I saw my boss, Mr. Grimes—or as we call him, Doc—coming out of the men's room. He wasn't in the greatest mood, as usual. "Johnny, do I pay you to be a canary?" he asked testily, in his _extremely _thick Brooklyn accent.

That was all it took to shut me up. "No, sir," I said as I put away the rest of the napkins. Call me crazy, but I was almost expecting someone to come in and say, "I wish I had a million dollars. Hot dog!"

Wait, you're probably wondering who I am, right? Well, let me start at the beginning.

I'm John Everett, and like I said, I'm fourteen years old, as well as the oldest in my family. I was born and raised on Long Island, and I've lived in the neighborhood of Old Woodbury all my life. I have three sisters and a brother: Susan is getting ready to turn thirteen, Adam is ten, Hope is eight, and Nancy is six. When we're together, we're known for being a pretty wild bunch, but otherwise good kids. In fact, I still remember the time about four years ago when Adam and I were riding our bikes past Old Lady Cooper's house, trying to outrun Joey Ricks' German Shepherd. When she saw us, she shouted, "Will you kids ever learn to slow down!" Now, had she known why we were hauling ass, I'm guessing she probably still would've yelled at us.

Besides living in Old Woodbury all my life, I've also lived in the same house as well. When Mom and Dad first moved there, it only had two bedrooms. Until Adam came along, I slept in the other bedroom, and Susan slept in her crib in the dining room. Anyway, Dad's a carpenter, and when Mom found out that she was expecting Adam, Dad called a bunch of his buddies, as well as my uncles, to clear out the basement and attic to make more room. Nowadays, my parents use the attic for their room, Adam and I share the room I've always had, Susan has her own room in the basement (lucky duck), and Hope and Nancy sleep in what had been my parents' room. Dad and Uncle Jacopo also built a storage shed, and filled it with everything from the basement and the attic. As for what we couldn't fit in there, we gave some to Uncle Chris and his family, and donated the rest of the Salvation Army.

We also have really swell next-door neighbors, the Goldbergs. They have two sons, both of which are grown up. Morris, their youngest, recently graduated from college, and also became engaged to his high school sweetheart, Elsie White. His older brother Reuben and his wife Joan live down in Tampa with their daughters: Eunice, who's Nancy's age, and Jessamyn, who's two and a half. However, I'm sorry to say that their older brother Alan was killed when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. According to Reuben, he was on the _USS Arizona._

Just as the song ended, I saw my friend and co-worker Goldie Paulson coming out of the storeroom with a few boxes of hamburger buns. "Hi. What's buzzin' cuzzin'?" he asked.

"Oh, not much," I answered. "Doc got a little frosted about my singing, like he usually does. Here, want some help with those?"

"Yeah, thanks," Goldie smiled as I took some of the boxes from his arms and followed him to the kitchen. I've always liked Goldie. He's about eleven years my senior, and a Negro, the only one employed at this malt shop. Because of his skin color, Goldie rides his motorcycle to work every day, and refuses to take the bus, ever since last December. That was when Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat to a white man, and was arrested on the spot. That really made me mad, because she was tired and her feet hurt, so why should she have to get up to move to the back of the bus? Now, if I were in her shoes, I would've told that guy to get bent.

But enough about that. In the day and age we live in now, most of the households have a new invention called television. So far, a lot of my friends have one, and I really hoped our family would someday. Luckily for us, we could now afford one. You see, Dad works at Phillips' Farm, and Mom works for a real-estate company, after working in a dress shop before my siblings and I were born. The dress shop was started by Great-Grandma Rossi, her maternal grandmother. She and her family had come over on the _Titanic, _and she'd died when I was five, so I barely remember her. My Gran, Ada Russo, lives in the Bronx with Gramps. In fact, my favorite picture is a four-generations picture, which was taken my first Thanksgiving. In it, I'm sitting on Great-Grandma Rossi's lap. Mom is right next to us, and Gran is right next to her. It currently hangs on the kitchen wall. I was barely a year old at the time, so naturally, seeing the flash from the camera would've shaken me up a little. Someday, when I get out on my own, I'm thinking of hanging it in my living room.

I'd just finished refilling the last of the salt shakers when I heard the little bell tinkle over the door. I looked up to see my family coming in. "Hey, you guys," I said as Nancy and Hope came up to the counter, climbed up on the stools, and started spinning around, trying to make themselves dizzy. If there's one thing they usually do when they come here, that's definitely it.

"Hi, son," Dad answered. "Are you off yet?"

"I should be in a few," I said as I picked up the salt canister and headed back to the kitchen.

Just then, Doc came out of the back storeroom. "Afternoon, folks," he said, running a hand through his graying hair.

"Hi, Doc," Mom answered. "We were just wondering if John was done yet."

"Yeah, I think I've gotten all the work I can get out of him today," Doc said as I helped my little sisters off the stools. Needless to say, they had a really hard time keeping their balance after all that spinning. "Hey, you'se two be careful. Remember the last time when you almost knocked over the gumball machine?"

"Oh, yeah," Nancy remembered as they steadied themselves. "Sorry about that."

"Yeah," Hope added. "We did almost get free gumballs, though."

"Kids," Doc sighed, shaking his head. But even he had to smile in spite of himself.

"Later, Daddy-O," Goldie said as I got ready to leave.

"You, too," I grinned.

When we got out to the car, I noticed something in the very backseat. "What's this? It's a television, right?" I asked. I knew it was a dumb question, but I just wanted to be sure.

"Yup," Dad agreed. "And wait'll you see it in action."

"So, does this mean we'll be able to watch _I Love Lucy _while we have dinner?" Susan asked.

"Well, I don't know about during dinner, but yes, you can watch all the _Lucy _you want," Mom answered.

"Crazy!" Susan exclaimed happily, which made me roll my eyes and groan. In case you're wondering why, Susan and some of her friends have recently decided that they're beatniks. I, for one, think it's kind of stupid, considering that hardly any of them rever read poetry. In fact, I still remember the time Mom found that Jack Keourac book in Susan's room when she was vacuuming, and boy, did she have a cow.

Even though my sister was trying out the beat generation—or having a major identity crisis, depending on how you look at it—I still thought that having our own TV set was really boss.

_November 3, 1956_

Our family had been enjoying our new TV for the past three months. In fact, we liked it so much, we ate dinner in front of it every night. Like Susan had mentioned, she and our parents liked _I Love Lucy, _Adam and I liked _Gunsmoke _and _The New Adventures of Superman, _and my two little sisters liked _Howdy Doody. _The two shows my siblings and I always watched together were _American Bandstand _and _The Mickey Mouse Club. _Like most of my friends, I thought Annette Funicello was the most beautiful girl who ever walked God's green earth. In fact, I still remember what Willie Kramer said the first time he saw her: "Boy-oh-boy, that girl's getting pretty stacked, huh, Johnny?"

"No comment," I'd said. As long as I'd known Willie, the very first thing he always notices on a girl is her jugs. I am not making this up. If you were to introduce us to the ugliest girl you could possibly find—and I mean Medusa-meets-Joan-Crawford ugly—as long as she had big jugs, that was good enough for Willie.

On the upside, Mrs. Kramer was out back hanging out the wash, and didn't hear what he'd said. Otherwise, she'd make a mad dash for the first bar of Lifebuoy she could find.

One Saturday night in early November, Susan, Adam, and I were putting the last of the dishes in the drainer when we heard Dad call from the den, "Hey, kids! Look at this!"

We could tell it was something big, because we were out of that kitchen in one second flat. "What is it, Daddy?" Hope asked as she got up from her dollhouse.

"It says here that _The Wizard of Oz _is going to be on TV tonight," Dad said, showing us the listing in the _TV Guide._

"That's the movie you and Mom saw on your honeymoon, right?" I guessed.

"Yup, that's the one," Dad answered. "Say, John, why don't you run upstairs and tell your mother?"

"Sure," I said. On the way, I remembered the summer I was seven when Gran and Gramps had taken me and Susan to see the 10th-anniversary reissue of that movie in the movie theater. Adam and Hope had been too young to sit through a movie then, and Nancy hadn't been born yet, so this would be their first time. I seriously hoped the cable wouldn't go out during the movie.

When I got upstairs, I knocked on the bathroom door, which was open a crack. "Yes?" Mom answered. She was in the process of cleaning out the tub, and Nancy was standing there wrapped in a towel, which meant she'd just had her bath.

"Guess what, Mom?" I said. "Dad says _The Wizard of Oz _is getting ready to come on TV."

"Oh, boy!" Nancy squealed, jumping up and down. She immediately ran to her room, put her nightgown on, then joined us in the living room a few minutes later. Dad sat in his favorite recliner; Mom, Susan, and I sat on the couch; Hope and Adam were sprawled out on the floor in front of us; and Nancy made herself comfortable right in my lap.

We were all enjoying the movie, and it had gotten to the part where the Witch throws that fireball at the Scarecrow, when all of a sudden, we heard a loud barking coming from outside. It was so loud that it scared the holy hell out of Nancy, enough to make her jump off my lap and hit her head right on my chin. And if you think that didn't hurt, you're crazy.

"What's going on out there?" Mom exclaimed.

"I don't know, Alice, but I'll find out," Dad said as he got up from his chair. I could tell he wasn't too happy, either.

"I know what that is, Dad," I said sharply, jumping up from the couch and putting Nancy in my spot. "It's Joey Ricks' dog again. I don't know about the rest of you, but I've had it listening to that flea-bitten mutt." And I marched to the front door and flung it open, with Dad following close behind me.

I guess you're proably wondering who Joey Ricks is, right? Well, I'll tell you, since this is the second time I've mentioned him.

You know how every school has that one kid everybody else is either afraid of or can't stand? Well, Joey is that particular kid. He's about my height, and every day, rain or shine, warm weather or cold, he always wears jeans, white T-shirts, and that beat-up brown leather jacket of his. In the summer, you can smell him coming from a block and a half away. And his hair? I'm surprised nobody's tried to build an oil well on top of that melon. He's what you'd call a greaser, a hood, a menace, you get the idea. Think of the guys in _The Wild One _and _Rebel Without A Cause, _only a million times nastier. And he ignores every adult in school but the principal.

Not listening to Dad's warnings for me to cool it, I marched across the street and up to the Ricks' front door. "Hey, Joey, shut that dog up!" I shouted, banging on the front door, which only wound it up even more. That's when the door opened, and out slunk Joey, a half-empty Pepsi in his hand and a Lucky Strike in his mouth. And boy, did he glare at me. Like it was my fault he couldn't keep that damn dog quiet.

"You know there's a law against disturbing the peace, Everett," he snarled.

"Yeah, no shit," I snarled back. "I'm surprised nobody's sic'ed the cops on you yet."

Joey took a long swig of Pepsi, one last drag on his cigarette, and blew the smoke right in my face before putting it out on the front step. "You've got two choices, Johnny-boy," he went on. "Either turn around and go back inside, or I give you a hand. And just so you'll know, pavement don't taste too good."

I could feel my fists clenching as I stood nose-to-nose with Joey. "And I suppose you'll make me, huh?" I challenged him. Even though Mom and Dad have always told me and my siblings that fighting never solves anything, I wanted nothing more than to arrange an appointment for Joey to get a set of dentures.

Well, I never got the chance to do so, because the next thing I felt was Dad's hand clapping down hard on my shoulder. "That's enough, you two," he barked. "John, inside. Joey, do something about the dog, or else."

"Or else what?" another voice demanded. I looked up, and standing over Joey's shoulder was his old man. He looked a lot like Joey, only a head taller. And you know what? Whoever invented the saying "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree" must have had these two in mind.

Then Mr. Ricks saw me. "Hey, I know you," he sneered. "You're friends with that spook from the malt ship, right?"

That did it. He was obviously talking about Goldie, and if there's one thing I hate, it's hearing people talk bad about him because of his skin color.

_"Vaffanculo, stronzo!" _I screaming, shoving Joey aside and making a beeline for that racist old bum. I knew he was a lot bigger than me—not only a head taller, but also fifty pounds heavier—but I didn't care. Nobody, and I mean _nobody, _calls Goldie a spook, even if they're bigger than me. I guess you could say I have what's called a Napoleon complex.

I'd just drawn back my fist to slug him when Joey tackled me. We fell off the front step, into the bushes, and rolled onto the front lawn, punching, kicking, growling, and cussing up a storm. It was a pretty even-sided fight, since we're pretty much the same size, so I didn't have to worry about Joey getting the upper hand.

The next thing I knew, Dad had wedged himself between us and managed to shove Joey away before grabbing me in a bear-hug. I really wish he hadn't done that, because I wanted to cream that little weasel. After all, it was his pin-headed fleabag he called a dog that started all this!

"Try to hit _my _pop, will you?" Joey yelled, rubbing the welt on his face. Then, snatching up the Pepsi bottle, he turned it upside down, busted the end off against the hood of a car, and waved it in my direction. "Try it again, and you're cruisin' for a bruisin'!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Morris running up the street to where we were. Evidently, he'd seen the fight from his folks' living room window, and thought he should help. "What's going on here?" he sharply inquired.

I know Morris Goldberg. He's built like a tank and has the amount of courage that would make General Patton turn green with envy. When he tells you to do something, he means it. And if you rubbed him the wrong way, watch out!

Apparently, Joey knew that, because when he saw Morris standing there, he just threw the busted bottle aside like nothing had happened. "Nothing," he shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. As I watched him saunter back inside, I was hoping he'd cut his finger on a piece of that glass and it would get gangrene and have to be amputated.

And where was his old man during all this? Standing in the doorway, just watching and not lifting a finger to stop it. That was so typical of him. "Dirty Jew," he spat at Morris, then turned around and went inside, slamming the door behind him.

The three of us headed back to my house. "Thanks for your help, Morris," Dad said, shaking his hand.

"No problem," Morris answered as he went up to his front door. "A word of advice, though, Johnny: it takes a bigger man to just walk away."

"Okay," I nodded. Besides being angry at Joey and Mr. Ricks, I was feeling a lot of other things: relief that the cops weren't called, grateful to Morris for saving my neck the way he did, and proud of myself for standing up to Joey. If you ask me, it'll be a long time before that greaseball starts any more trouble with me.

When we got inside, I saw that it had _just started _snowing in the poppy-field scene. "I'm all right, Mom," I said as I sat back on the couch. But just the same, she ran to the bathroom for a wet washcloth to put on my busted lip, which none of the other kids noticed, except Susan. She notices everything.

"That Joey Ricks is so mean," she grumbled. "Who does he think he is, anyway?"  
I didn't know how to answer that, so I just shrugged and shook my head as Mom was returning. "Here, son," she said, handing me the washcloth. The cold dampness helped stop the bleeding and ease the pain.

"Hey, look!" Hope exclaimed as she pointed at the screen.

_"Snap-crackle-pop! Rice Kris-pi-ies!" _she and Nancy sang, giggling the whole time. I guessed that's what the fake snow looked like to them. I was still griping over my bleeding lip, but even I had to laugh at that.

_Independence Day, 1959_

For as long as I could remember, my favorite times of year were Christmas, Thanksgiving, my birthday, and the Fourth of July. That was when the Everett and Russo families got together at our house for the annual barbecue, which we kids always loved. In fact, I still remember last summer when Hope, Nancy, and our cousin NaDean, who's my Aunt Pia's daughter and a year between Hope and Nancy, tried to have a contest to see who could swing the highest without falling out of the swing. Well, thankfully, no one was hurt, but Mom, Dad, Uncle Vito, and Aunt Pia sure raised hell when they found out. And no, we no longer have that swing set.

This year, however, we were doing something different. The real estate company that Mom works for had given us a two-week vacation in Cape Cod. And boy, you should've seen the looks on our faces when Mom told us. We'd never been on a real vacation before, except for seeing our relatives in the Bronx. I'm also told that we took a trip to Chicago when Susan and I were really little. I was two and a half, and Susan was barely a year old. Sure, those were fun, but I'm talking about an all-expenses-paid, getting-away-from-it-all kind of trip. Not only was the company paying for everything, but Mom's boss had a cabin up there, just a mile or so from the beach. We were all looking forward to our trip, but it was an extra-special occasion for Susan. She'd be turning sixteen next month, and she was planning to have her sweet-sixteen party there.

At 6 a.m. on the dot, we were all up and ready to go. Dad was driving the big blue van, which had room for all of us. Mom sat in the front passenger seat, I sat behind Dad, Susan sat behind Mom, and Nancy, Adam, and Hope sat behind us. For once, Nancy didn't gripe about not getting a seat by the window, because she was way too excited to think about that. But then again, Nancy was always excited. As we drove along the highway, "Dream Lover" by Bobby Darin was playing on the radio, and we were all singing along. And any words we didn't know, we made up.

"How much longer, Dad?" Adam asked as the song ended.

"Not that much farther, kids," Dad answered. "Remember, we left at 6:00 this morning, and we've been on the road for five and a half hours, including the time we stopped for lunch."

Almost immediately, Dad was interrupted by a fit of giggling from Hope and Nancy. "What's so funny, girls?" Mom asked. I happened to glance over my shoulder at Adam, and that was the first time I'd ever seen my little brother's face turn that shade of red.

"Oh, nothing," Hope said in a sing-song voice. Nancy, on the other hand, was too worked up to say anything.

"All right, that's enough," Adam told them. It was obvious that he was still too embarrassed to talk about girls.

"What ws her name again?" Susan wondered. "Amy? Jenny?"

"Holly," Adam answered. Then, turning to the two little girls, he said, "And she's _not _my girlfriend, either. In fact, I'll probably never see her again."

"Well, you never know," Susan shrugged.

"Are you kidding? What girl would want to be seen with a guy with a face like the Rocky Mountains and a voice like Mickey Mouse?" Adam moaned. "I'm surprised I haven't busted a mirror just by looking into it yet!"

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic, Adam," I chided him. Part of me felt bad for him, because I've been through that myself. But after a while, listening to him bitch about his appearance all the time really got on my nerves. "You're not going to look like this forever."

"Your brother's right, Adam," Mom added. "It's all part of growing up. And if you never see that girl again, that doesn't mean you won't find the girl for you someday."

"I just hope I'm young enough to enjoy it when it does happen," Adam mumbled.

"As I was _saying," _Dad continued. His tone of voice was all it took for us to be quiet. And a good thing, too, because he hates being interrupted. "We've been driving for five and a half hours, so we should be there in about half an hour."

"Okay," I said.

It had been a long, boring trip, but I couldn't have cared less. I think everybody else felt the same way.

We soon arrived at our cabin near the beach. "Wow, this is where we're staying?" Nancy squealed as we got out of the car.

"Yup, this is it, all right," Mom smiled.

The cabin was pretty amazing: all-oak, two stories high, with a stone roof and a patio on both floors, as well as a GREAT view of the entire Cape Cod. Inside, it had a kitchen and living room all in one, a winding staircase, and on the upper level, four bedrooms all in a row, with a bathroom in between each pair of rooms. There was also another bedroom downstairs for Mom and Dad, also with its own bathroom.

"This place is great, Mom!" Adam exclaimed.

"I knew you kids would like it," Mom said. "Mr. Nelson and his wife come up here every summer, but with their son's wedding in Newark and all, they couldn't let this cabin go to waste."

"Wow, I hope I have a boss that nice someday," I commented.

"Dibs on the back bedroom!" Hope shouted as she and Nancy darted upstairs. The other sleeping arrangements went like this: Susan had the room beside theirs, Adam picked the room on the far left, and I got the one in between them. This was the first time Adam and I wouldn't be sharing a room, which was nice, just something to get used to.

About ten minutes after we'd unpacked and changed into our swimsuits, we made our way down to the beach. To our surprise, it wasn't as crowded as I thought it'd be, especially during this time of year. I was expecting to see mobs of people packed in like sardines, but there were only a few families here and there, as well as some high school kids playing volleyball, eating, and catching some rays. One girl in particular really caught my eye. She had a really dark tan, and was wearing a white one-piece swimsuit with criss-cross straps down the back and red and black polka dots, and her long jet-black hair trailed behind her head like a banner as she ran toward the ocean. When she caught a quick glimpse over her shoulder, our eyes met. They were almost as dark as her hair and her tan, and when she smiled, it was like looking at a line of bowling pins that glowed in the dark. And don't even get me started on that pink lipstick she was wearing. All in all, let's just say that Elizabeth Taylor has nothing on this girl.

"Hey, John?" Dad's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Think you can give us a hand setting up here?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah," I said as he handed me an umbrella. And yes, Hope and Nancy were giggling their heads off, just like they'd done with Adam. You know what? I think little girls are required by law to act all silly whenever their older brother or sister has the hots for someone.

I'd just finished laying out the last of the towels when I heard a voice screaming, "HELP! SOMEBODY, HELP!"

I looked up and very frantically started looking for where the voice was coming from. "Oh, my God," I whispered. It was that girl! She'd gotten caught in an undertow! Yanking off my shirt, I raced toward the water, dove in, and swam with all my might toward her. I knew I probably should've gotten a lifeguard, but I knew there was no way they'd reach her in time.

"It's okay, I'm coming!" I shouted. I was kicking and paddling with everything I had until I reached her, and she flung her arms around my neck. It was kind of hard to keep both our heads above the surface as I made my way ashore, but I was a good swimmer. Uncle Jacopo had taught how to swim from the time we could crawl, so no undertow was going to get me without a fight.

"Oh, _gratzie, gratzie," _the girl was gasping as I got to the point where I could stand. I knew she was Italian, because I know that accent when I hear it. But there was no time to think about that now.

"You're going to be okay now," I said as I laid her out on the beach. After a moment of coughing up water, she tried to sit up. "No, don't try to get up. Another minute and you would've drowned."

That's when she looked up at me. Her breathing steadied, and her eyes got as big as an owl's. I felt my mouth and the back of my throat dry up like the Sahara Desert, and my heart was racing. Call me crazy, but I almost expected to hear "Love Is A Many-Splendored Thing" playing. She was that pretty. It's a wonder my heart didn't explode or jump out of my chest and run away, now that I think about it.

"HEY!" another voice shouted, in the same accent as the girl. "Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing with my sister, you little _bastardo!"_

My head whipped to the left, and marching over to me was a tall, muscular guy with the same dark hair and features as the girl. Not only was he older, but he also had a two-inch crewcut and a big bushy moustache. And boy, did he look mean, enough to make Joey Ricks look like Wally Cleaver. I thought for sure he was going to pound me right through the sand.

"Ken, Ken, it's all right," the girl quickly reassured him. "I was drowning, but this boy saved my life."

In that instant, he just stopped dead in his tracks, and his face softened. It was like he had a hidden switch somewhere, and this girl had found it and shut him off. I also wondered if she'd been a lion tamer in a previous life.

"He did?" he asked. After she nodded, he turned to me, and said, in the calmest, most gentle voice I'd ever heard. "Thank you. Look, I'm sorry if I misunderstood. I was just looking out for my little sister, you know?"

"I know what that's like," I agreed. "I've got three of them myself, and a brother."

"Hoo, boy," he sighed. "A big brother's job is never done, huh?"

"Damn right."

"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Ken Cicconetti (pronounced chick-uh-NET-tee), and this is my sister, Rose."

"Hi, Ken," I said, shaking his hand. "I'm John Everett."

"Nice to meet you," Ken answered as the two of us shook hands. "Thanks again for helping."

"No problem."

After that little meeting, I was so relieved that I wasn't going to be knocked clear to the moon. I was also under the impression that when Ken and Rose's folks found out what I'd done, and gotten to know us, they'd be grateful for my help and maybe even like us.

And boy, was I in for a shock.


	8. John 2

**JOHN 2**

_July-September, 1959_

Remember when I told you that I was in for a shock when I met Ken and Rose's folks? Well, they were grateful that I'd saved their daughter's life, but when we first met them at Susan's party, I could tell by their body language that they didn't exactly approve of me when it came to dating Rose. I couldn't understand why. I mean, if it wasn't for me, Rose would've drowned. And I always treated them with respect whenever I saw them, so what the hell was their problem?

It was a few days later that I found out.

Rose and I were having hot dogs at the café on the beach that afternoon. I was telling her about myself and my family, all of which she found interesting. But even so, she still had something to tell me.

"I couldn't help noticing how Mom and Daddy have been acting toward you," she said at last.

"Yeah, same here," I agreed. "Say, what gives with them, anyway?"

Rose took a deep breath and looked me in the eye. It was obvious that she could tell that I wasn't going to like what she had to say.

"My father's a dentist here in town," she began. "And by that, I mean he's well known and respected, not to mention loaded, if you know what I mean."

"You guys are rich?" I guessed.

Rose nodded. "Look, I'm glad we're doing so well, and I love my folks to pieces, but with them, it's all about money," she continued. I could tell she was trying her hardest not to get angry. "Daddy even has this crazy idea about what kind of guy I should be dating. His philosophy is, if the guy in question isn't rich, or doesn't have as much money as we do, then he wants nothing to do with him, even if he's the nicest guy in the world. It's like he doesn't even care if I ended up with the single biggest jerk that ever lived. As long as he's got the bread, that's all that matters. I've tried telling them that I don't care if a guy I like isn't rich, but they never listen, either."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. This was prejudice at its worst. I wsa used to seeing people get treated like shit because they were different from others. Goldie, for example, because he's a Negro. I also remembered Mom and Dad telling me how people used to treat them because of their heritage. Mom's Italian and Dad's of Austrian descent, which was pretty much asking for trouble during the World War II era. Even the Goldbergs have had to put up with their share of shabby treatment because they're Jewish. But not liking someone because they weren't rich? That's where I draw the line.

"That is such a crock," I managed to say. "They'd rather see you with a guy who'd run around two-timing you and spending his money like water than someone who's poor, but would otherwise treat you like a queen?"  
"In a nutshell, yes," Rose answered in disgust as she finished the last of her vanilla shake. "Okay, John, get it out of your system."

"What?"

Rose no longer looked angry or disgusted, only sad. "Usually whenever I tell guys about my family, they call my parents snobs, I tell them not to talk about my folks that way, we get into an argument, and that's pretty much it," she answered. "Which is why I don't date so much."

"Oh, Rose," I said sympathetically, putting a hand on her arm. "You shouldn't worry about what other people think of you, whether your family has money or not. You know, my mom once told me that when she was a kid, her father told her that you can't judge a book by its cover."

"Boy, I've never heard that one before," Rose muttered sarcastically.

"Well, can I ask you something? Before you told me how it is with your folks, did I come across as the kind of guy whould wouldn't like you because of it?"

"Well...no."

"So, you see, not everyone's like that," I said.

You know what? After I told her that, that was the first time I'd seen her smile that day. "Thanks," she said softly. "And you know what? From the first time I saw you, I could tell you weren't like other guys."

I couldn't help smiling when she said that. Honestly, I wanted to lean across that table and plant one on her, but I changed my mind. I didn't want her to t hink I was just another young Romeo looking to make it with her. As it turned out, I never got the chance to do so, because before I knew what was happening, she did just that. And on the lips, too.

Don't get me wrong, she was beautiful, and I liked her a lot. And you're damn right I liked it when she kissed me. I just wasn't expecting that. To no one's surprise, some little kids were nearby screaming, _"Eww, coooo-tiiiies!"_

"I—I'm sorry, John," she stammered. All the while, her face was turning bright red, even redder than her lipstick.

"Don't be," I grinned. "I'm not."

And believe me, I wasn't.

A week later, my family and I were getting ready to leave Cape Cod. It was such a fun vacation, and I was looking forward to getting back to Old Woodbury, but at the same time, I was really sad to be leaving Rose behind. I knew she felt the same way, because that morning, she came by to see us off as we were packing up the van. "I guess this is it," she said as the two of us hugged.

"I guess so," I answered.

"Will we see each other again?"

"I hope so, but just in case we don't, here." I reached into my pocket, took out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to her.

"That's my address back on Long Island," I said as she unfolded it. "Any time you miss me, or if you're feeling bad in any way, or think nobody cares, you can always write to me."

With that, she threw her arms around me, and the next thing I knew, we were locked in a long, passionate kiss. And I'm talking about the kind of kiss you'd see in the movies, like _From Here to Eternity _or _Gone With the Wind. _I could taste the Cherry Coke on her lips and feel her heart beating with mine as I wrapped my arms tightly around her waist. I'm just glad I didn't break her in half.

"Well, John, time to go!" Dad called to me. I didn't want to hear those words, but there was nothing I could do about it.

"Okay," I answered. Then, turning to Rose, I said, "Well, got to split. 'Bye."

"'Bye," Rose said softly. "I'll write to you every chance I get. I promise."

"I will, too," I whispered. And with that, I turned around and climbed into the van. I could feel the knot in my throat forming, and as we drove away from the cabin, I forced myself not to start crying, or even look back at Rose standing there. No way was I going to fall apart in front of everybody.

_Don't start crying now, Johnny, _I thought fiercely. _Sure, you two had a blast getting to know each other, but it's all for the best. She's from her world, and you're from yours. It wouldn't have worked out anyway, so there's no use bitching about it now. And besides, there's plenty of girls at school anyway._

Which is why I wasn't prepared for the surprise that would await me at school in September.

September soon rolled around, and no one was more excited than me. I was a senior this year, and not only did I get my license over the summer, but this was the first time I'd be driving to school. I still remember when I got my car. After we came back from Cape Cod, Dad's folks, Granny and Grandfather, surprised me with an old beat-up '55 Chevy with tail-fins. Gramps, Uncle Chris, Uncle Jacopo, Dad, Adam, and I worked on that machine for weeks: getting all the bugs out of the engine until it purred like a kitten, replacing the fenders, lights, and mirrors, getting all the dents and dings out of the engine, and cleaning the seats and windows. And best of all, Uncle Chris helped me paint it whatever color I wanted. I chose black, because there was no way in hell I was going to be seen driving around in a car that was painted pink, turquoise, or some other sissy, fruity color like that.

On the morning of the first day of school, my siblings and I piled into my car and headed off to school. Susan was a junior this year, so she and I would be the only ones going to the high school. Adam and Hope would be going to the middle school, and Nancy would be the last of us still in elementary school. Needless to say, she wasn't too happy about it.

"The only Everett left at Garfield Elementary," she sighed. "I must be getting old."

"Nancy, you're only nine," Adam said as he applied Clearasil to the tiny Mt. McKinley on his nose. Remember the slogan "don't leave home without it"? Well, apparently, Adam decided they were talking about that instead of credit cards.

"Look at it this way, Nancy," Hope said. "From now on, whenever someone says, 'Hey, Everett', you'll know they're talking to you."

"Is that good or bad?" Nancy asked.

"Well, it depends on whether or not you did something wrong," Adam answered.

"Gee, that makes me feel much better," Nancy muttered sarcastically.

"All right, cool it, you guys," I told them as we arrived at Nancy's school. "Look, Nancy, there's nothing to worry about. I felt the same way the first time I went to school. You'll be fine."

"Promise?"

"Scout's honor," I smiled, giving the Scout salute, which made her giggle.

"Thanks, John," she said. Then she leaned forward, gave me a kiss, and got out of the car.

_One down, four to go, _I thought.

After dropping off Adam and Hope, Susan and I arrived at our school. And just as I'd predicted, the first thing Susan did was run up to all her beatnik friends, all of whom were dressed in the same black clothes, berets, shades, and sandals they always wore. And no, none of them said anything about my car.

"Hey, Johnny!" a voice called. I turned around, and there was Willie Kramer.

"Hey, Willie!" I shouted as we gave each other a bear-hug. "How you been, Daddy-O?"

"Not too shabby," Willie answered. "Hey, where'd you get the wheels?"

"My gramps got it for me, and we really did a job on it over the summer."

"I'll say!" Willie agreed. "Man, the chicks'll be lined up around the block wanting to get a ride in this. Oh, did you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"Joey Ricks got nailed while you were in Cape Cod."

"Get out of here! Really?"

"Yup," Willie answered. "The cops caught him knocking off a Texaco, and now he's going to a reform school in Brooklyn."

"If you ask me, it couldn't happen to a nicer guy," I said. "I knew he'd get it someday."

"You and me both."

When I entered the school, I couldn't believe what I saw next. Coming out of the office was a girl wearing a white blouse, green plaid poodle skirt, and had long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail with a green scarf tied around it. "Rose?" I asked in surprise. I couldn't be her! Could it?

She turned around. "Hi, John," she said, smiling that beautiful smile I'd come to know and love.

"Oh, my God. Rose!" I exclaimed as she ran up and jumped into my arms. Right there in front of the entire student body, I lifted her off the ground and spun her around as I held her. It was great to see her! I thought for sure I'd never see her again.

"What are you doing here?" I stammered excitedly as I set her down. "I thought you and your family were still in Cape Cod."

"Daddy was transferred here to Long Island after Dr. Young retired," Rose answered. "We moved here just last week, and we now live in Southampton."

"No kidding?" I asked. "How's Ken?"

"He's doing great. In fact, he enlisted in the Army, and is stationed at Ft. Dix. He also got his black belt and is training to be a hand-to-hand combat instructor."

"That's great, Rose," I smiled. "Wow, I can't believe you're here."

"Me, neither. I missed you so much, John."

That was all Willie needed to hear, because right then and there, he started singing at the top of his lungs, _"Young lo-o-ove, first lo-o-ove, fi-i-illed with tru-u-ue devo-o-tio-o-on!"_

It was bad enough that Willie was embarrassing us, and making a complete jackass of himself, but the guy absolutely cannot sing if his life depended on it. And I thought Reuben Goldberg had an awful voice!

"All right, Willie, cut it out," I told him. He stopped sinigng, but then, of course, he had to know all about Rose. Not that he was trying to make a move on her, because he and Kellie Parker had been going steady since our freshman year. And God help us all if she ever caught him in the act!

"Say, I just thought maybe the four of us could get together sometime," he suggested.

"Okay," Rose said. "Sounds like fun."

The next thing Willie did was put his arms around both our shoulders. "You know, Rosie, Johnny," he said, in the best Bogey voice he could use, "this could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

Needless to say, Rose damn near lost it from laughing. And this time, even I had to as well.

I don't know about the rest of the kids, but as for me, I had a really good feeling about my senior year.

_July 1, 1963_

Well, for the most part, my senior year went very well. I made the football team, even if I was one of the smallest guys on the team: 5' 9" and 175 lbs. I also graduated with a 3.1 grade-point average. Best of all, Rose and I maintained our relationship, despite how her folks felt about me. I guess they were afraid that if we ever got married, I wouldn't be able to provide for her. Now, that always struck me as kind of stupid, because like she'd told me, they expected her to settle down with someone who had as much money as them, if not more. Of everyone in Rose's family, the only one who though I was good enough for her was Ken.

"Look, Johnny," he said to me one day while I was eating lunch at work. He was getting ready to leave for Southeast Asia next week, and he thought it best if the two of us sat down and talked about the situation now. "I don't care what Mama and Papa think of you. Since I've gotten to know you, I've gotten to see you for the good kid you are. And believe me, you are a good kid. If I didn't think so, I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you now."

"Thanks, Ken," I said. "But why don't your folks like me? What did I ever do to them?"

"It's not that they don't like you as a person," Ken explained, taking a sip of his orange soda. "Believe me, they're grateful for you saving my sister's life that summer. They're just concerned aobut you not being able to support her."

"But I _can _support her!" I protested. "I've had part-time jobs since I was fourteen! Hell, I still have my job here at Doc's! And I'm taking that drafting course at the community college!"

"I understand," Ken said. "I wish they felt the same way you do, and I've tried to tell them that you'll take care of her, but with them, I might as well be talking to the wall."

It took everything I had not to blow my stack in front of everybody in the diner, because if Doc had heard me, he'd have fired me on the spot. And that was the last thing I needed. But I was still furious with Ken and Rose's folks for the way they looked down their noses at me.

"Well, I don't care what they say," I said through clenched teeth. "I love your sister, Ken, and by God, I will provide for her and protect her the way she deserves. I'll show them. I'll show everybody."

"I admire you for that, Johnny," Ken said proudly. "And just between us, I don't care what they say, either."

I couldn't help smiling after he said that. It was great to have someone on my side where Rose was concerned.

"You know, if you need someone to co-sign a loan for your own place, I know a guy who can help," Ken went on. "And you could always elope."

"Elope". That was the one word that made me spit out the Pepsi I'd been drinking. Fortunately, not only had I finished my hot dog and fries, but it got on the table instead of all over his face. But that was still the last thing I expected him to say.

"Elope? Oh, that's a _wonderful _idea," I managed to gasp out. "Just the sort of thing to give all our parents heart attacks."

"Look, do you want my help or not?" Ken asked, in the most serious voice I'd ever heard him use. "Because I'll be leaving next week, and I won't be here to help you guys when you do decide what you want to do. Besides, I have Laura to think about, too."

"Laura?"

"My wife. While I'm in Vietnam teaching our boys how to defend themselves, she'll be stuck at home raising our son in a tiny apartment in Cincinnati, and wondering when I'll be home."

That did it. I was stuck. It was obvious that Ken wasn't going to let up, so I knew w hat I had to do. I had to be a man, and take this chance he was giving me. And if our folks didn't like it—well, hers, specifically—then the hell with them.

"All right, I'm in," I finally said. It was then that I had this feeling of inner strength come over me, a feeling I new knew I had. I mean, I always knew how to stick up for myself and my brother and sisters, and even stand up to Joey Ricks' old man. But this was different. For one thing, I wasn't a kid anymore. I was twenty-one years old. For the first time in my life, I had the chance to really go out there and make something of myself.


	9. John 3

A/N: in case you're wondering, gabagool is the Italian name for capicolla, a spicy Italian ham.

**JOHN 3**

_July 3, 1963_

That afternoon, Ken, Rose, and I were sitting at the kitchen table across from Mom and Dad, explaining our plans to them. They were happy for Rose and me, but I could tell that they weren't exactly thrilled about how we chose to go about the whole thing. Mom was particularly concerned.

"John, don't you remember when I told you about how upset I was when Aunt Jessica and Uncle Dan told me they were going to elope?" she asked.

"Well, yeah," I admitted. In the back of my mind, I thought, _You just _had_ to bring that up again, huh, Mom?_

"So, you see, I'm just trying to save you from making the same mistake she did."

"Mrs. Everett, we're not making a mistake," Rose tried to explain. "It's not like we're broke and homeless. Ken already co-signed the loan for our house downtown, and the graduation check from Daddy will cover the first six months on the mortgage."

"But what will you do for money?" Dad asked. "From what I understand, Rose, your parents made it perfectly clear that if you go through with this, you shouldn't expect any more financial help from them."

"We both work," Rose answered. "John still has his job at Doc's, and he also told me that he still helps you and Morris out at the farm every summer. As for me, I work in the cafeteria at the community college. Sure, being a cashier isn't all fun and games, but it's better than nothing."

"And I told them I'd send them ten percent of my paycheck," Ken added. "I worked it out with my superior officer before I went on leave, and he said he'd be glad to help."

I honestly didn't think Mom and Dad would feel any better after hearing that, but to my surprise, they didn't even get upset.

"Well, son, your mother and I still have some reservations, especially since none of you told the Cicconettis about any of this," Dad said. "But like you said, you're not destitute, and you're both employed. So, if you really want to do this, you have our blessing."

"Thanks, Dad," I grinned as we got up from the table and hugged. Then it dawned on me. "You know what? I now realized something. I don't have a ring for you, Rose."

"Oh, that's okay, John," she said softly. "I don't need a ring when I have a great guy like you."

"Hold that thought," Mom said. She got up from the table and hurried upstairs. A minute or so later, she returned, and in the palm of her hand was a yellow-gold ring with a pear-shaped diamond in the middle, and on both sides, two tiny emeralds and rubies.

"This is my Grandmother Rossi's engagement ring," she said as she showed it to us. "My grandfather gave it to her for Christmas in 1891, and they were married about two years later. Before she died, her last wish was that this be passed on to the first bride of the next generation. And, Rose, that's you."

Rose gasped in wonder as she carefully took the ring out of Mom's hand. And you should've seen the way those stones sparkled in the sunlight. Best of all, when she tried it on, it was a perfect fit. She and Great-Grandma Rossi apparently had the same size fingers.

"Oh, Mrs. Everett, it's beautiful," Rose whispered, fighting the sobs that were gnawing at her throat. _"Mucho gratzie."_

"You're more than welcome, dear," Mom smiled. "And you can call me Alice."

Just then, the front door opened, and my sisters came in. Susan was now nineteen, Hope was now fifteen, and Nancy was now thirteen. They'd just come back from swimming at the community pool. "Hi, everybody," Susan greeted us as Hope and Nancy went upstairs to change. "What's up?"

Smiling as wide as the Cheshire cat, Rose held out her hand to show Susan the ring.

"Oh, Rose, that's wonderful!" Susan exclaimed as she threw her arms around Rose. "Have you set a date yet?"

"Soon," Ken answered. "Preferably before I have to leave for Vietnam next week. Rose and I arranged for them to have the wedding at City Hall this coming Saturday. It's pretty handy to have a father who plays golf with the judge."

"And Susan, I'd like you to be my maid of honor," Rose added.

"You mean it?" Susan exclaimed, a slight squeak in her voice. "Oh, absolutely!"

The next three days were a blur. We were breaking our backs moving all of our stuff into our new house downtown, not to mention getting the marriage license and deciding what to wear for the ceremony. The only one who didn't have trouble in that department was Ken. He was going to be wearing his Army uniform. But despite all of us running around like a bunch of headless chickens, Rose and I soon had our wedding. We got married at City Hall on July 7, 1963, just a few minutes after midnight. Ken and Susan stood as witnesses. Ken's wife Laura, as well as the rest of my family, were there as well. The only ones who weren't there were Rose's parents. Not only did they find out, but they also told us that since Gino was too young—he was only about twenty months old—to sit through a ceremony, they thought it best if he stayed home with them. But I knew better. They knew damn well that I knew better, and you can bet your uncle's racetrack winnings that Ken and Rose knew better, too.

But other than that, I wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world.

_November 22, 1963_

Not everybody thought it would work. Mom and Dad certainly had their doubts, and needless to say, Rose's parents weren't exactly tickled pink themselves. In fact, they actually went through with their threat to cut Rose off if she married me. But in typical Rose fashion, she chouldn't have cared less what they did. We still had our jobs and our own home, and we worked hard, saved our money, and paid our own bills on time. Plus, we were still very much in love. And the fact that Ken kept his promise to send us a little money once a week helped considerably, too.

Little did we know it at the time, but what we'd just been through was a picnic compared to a much more serious storm on the horizon.

It was a rainy Friday afternoon at the community college. Teachers and students alike were looking forward to time off for Thanksgiving vacation. Rose and I were particularly excited. It was our first Thanksgiving together, and we'd be spending it at my parents' house in Old Woodbury.

"So, Johnny, what are you and Rose doing for the holidays?" my friend Jeff Kendall asked me over lunch that day.

"Oh, we're spending it with my folks," I answered. "How about you?"

"Aw, I'm working," Jeff answered glumly. "I mean, I'll still get to have dinner with my family, mind you, but after that, it's back to McDonald's for me."

"Bummer," I sighed. "You know, if I was JFK, I'd make it a crime to have to work on any holiday, especially this time of year."

"Yeah, I dig what you're saying," Jeff agreed.

Just then, Jeff's girlfriend, Betty St. Clair, came rushing up to our table. She looked white as a sheet, and the look on her face said it all.

"Guys, I need you to come to the common area," she panted.

"What? Is somebody sick?" I asked.

_"Now."_

And with that, the three of us hauled ass to the common area. The first thing I saw was how jam-packed it was. Nearly every student in the entire school was crowded around the TV. At first, I was glad that nobody was hurt, but when I looked around at them, I could see tears in their eyes. Some were standing there like zombies, others were bawling their eyes out, and a few of the guys in the auto-shop were looking to beat someone to a pulp. "That son of a bitch," one of them growled, clenching his fists to the point where his knuckles were turning white.

I had no idea what was going on, until I got closer to the TV. And there it was. The image of the President's motorcade group driving down the street in Dallas. A Secret Service agent throwing himself onto the back of the car. Two motorcycle cops rushing over to see what was going on. And that's when I knew what had happened. President John F. Kennedy had just been shot.

"Oh, dear Lord Jesus," I whispered, fighting to keep my voice steady. My hand grabbed onto the back of the chair beside me, and I held on as I willed myself to keep standing. Betty, meanwhile, had already passed out in Jeff's arms.

"Help me get her outside!" I heard him call to another student. But the weird thing is, it didn't even sound like his voice. It sounded very slow and distorted, like when you flip a switch on a record player to make the records sound like that. In fact, that's what everything else was sounding like. I didn't even notice Jeff and one of the other guys moving Betty to the door. It was like I was in my own world.

When I could finally move, I realized I'd forgotten to throw my trash away, so I pushed my way through the crowd, and headed back to the cafeteria. All the while, I couldn't even feel my feet touching the floor. It was like I was on auto-pilot.

Then I saw Rose. She ws standing at the cash register by the fire exit with her face in her hands. Obviously crying. I knew right away that she'd heard.

"Rose," I called as I ran up to her. "Rose, did you hear?"

She looked up at me and nodded. Her face was streaked with tears, and runny eyeliner, and her eyes were red and puffy.

"I can't believe it," I murmured. "I just saw the President on TV last night."

"No, it's not just that," she sobbed. Then, after taking a few deep breaths, she managed to say, "Ken's been hurt."

"What?" I asked in disbelief.

"I just got off the phone with Laura," she explained. "Ken was on his way to the community center on the base where he teaches martial arts. He was right across the street from it when it was bombed. He—it was..."

I stepped directly in front of Rose and forced her to look me in the eye. "Rose, what happened?" I demanded.

"He can't hear anymore, she sniffled. "The commanding officer doesn't know any more than that."

No.

Not this, too.

Not now. Please, God, not now.

Not Ken.

First the President gets show, now my brother-in-law almost gets blown to Kingdom Come. I'm not normally a big crier, but after what just happened, I completely fell apart. The two of us stood there and held each other, just sobbing our hearts out, and wondering why this was happening. I just couldn't believe it. None of us could.

Shit.

I can quite honestly say that for as long as I live, I will remember exactly where I was and what I was doing on that horrible day, just like every living person who was old enough to have memories in 1963. But the only difference was that for me, it was because of not one but two shocking events in my life, neither of which I expected or could even imagine.

_Well, _I thought. _Now what?_

Just a little over two years later, I would get my answer.

_February 14, 1966_

It was snowing really hard outside Rose's hospital room in the early morning hours of Valentine's Day. Since we'd known each other, that had always been one of our favorite holidays. I still remember when we'd first celebrated it together. I'd gotten up at the crack of dawn and cooked Rose's favorite breakfast: gabagool, hash browns, and eggs—sunny-side up, just the way she likes them—rye toast with honey, orange juice, and black coffee. And boy, you should've seen the look on her face when she came into the kitchen and saw it laid out on the table, right next to a long-stemmed rose in a vase of water.

This year, we were even happier. Just an hour and a half ago, she'd given birth to our son. Stefano John Everett—named after my great-uncle, Gramps' brother, who had been killed in Halifax, Nova Scotia during World War I—was born at 4:27 a.m. in the elevator on the way to the delivery room. I'd heard babies cry before, but Steve, as we called him, was just raising hell when he came into the world. I could understand that. If you were suddenly yanked from the nice, warm space you'd been in for the past nine months, just so you could freeze your ass off and be poked and prodded by all these people you'd never seen before, wouldn't you be a little crabby?

But now, here he was, all bundled up and nestled in Rose's loving arms, and sleeping like a log. I gues all that screaming made the little guy tired.

I entered the room after getting a quick breakfast in the cafeteria to find Rose leaning back against the pillow with her eyes closed. If you think it was exhausting for Steve, imagine what it was like for her. I gently touched her shoulder, and she opened her eyes.

"Hi, Mom," I smiled warmly.

"Hi, Dad," she answered. Then looking down at Steve, she said, "He's beautiful, isn't he?"

"He sure is, honey," I agreed. "God, I can't believe he's ours." Then, looking down at Steve, I asked in a baby voice, "So, you're the one who's been kicking Mommy, aren't you? Yes, you are. And she wasn't even eating anything spicy."

"John!" Rose laughed. Then, looking down at Steve again, she said, "Don't mind Daddy. He's just had a long day. We all have."

I sat beside Rose on the bed and wrapped my arms around her, never suspecting that the day was about to get a lot tougher.

The door opened just then, and Dr. Snow came in. He's a few inches taller and sixteen years older than me, with silver wavy hair and black horn-rimmed glasses. The one thing that's impossible to miss about him is his ties. They're always in some crazy pattern, and today, he was wearing one that looked like the keys on a piano. All the other doctors are always razzing him about it, and when he came into the room, I thought I'd have a turn at making a tie joke.

But I never got the chance to do so, because after telling Rose and Steve good morning, he looked straight at me. "Mr. Everett, you have a phone call at the front desk," he said.

"Okay, thanks," I said. I didn't think anything of it at first. I just assumed that it was Mom or Dad, or one of my still-living grandparents, and that they were wanting to know when would be a good time to visit the baby. At their age, babies are a huge deal to them, just like they are to anyone who's about to become a grandparent. Or a great-grandparent, for that matter.

"Hello?" I answered cheerfully after the nurse handed me the phone.

Unfortunately, the response on the other end was a deep, loud sniffle and a shaky, whispering sob.

"J-John?"

I recognized that voice right away. It was Adam.

"Adam?" I asked. "Adam, what's wrong? Is it Mom or Dad?"

"No," Adam whispered. With what he said next, I could tell he really had to force the words out. "It's Uncle Jacopo."

Uncle Jacopo is Mom's brother. He's about two years younger than her, and the second-oldest in her family. Like me, he has the job of being a big brother, and all the perks that come with it. But since he's not the oldest, he also got to be an annoying, pesky little brother that could get on Mom's nerves whenever he felt like it. In fact, he gave me his ring for a graduation present. It's a gold and onyx ring with the shape of Italy engraved on the side, and right in the center is a tiny sparkling diamond no bigger than a raspberry seed. According to Gramps, it's been in our family since his great-grandfather was young. To us kids, my uncle was always the clown: always smiling, happy, and making us laugh. Whenever he and his family came to visit, our sides were always hurting us from laughing by the time they left. Aunt Jessica is the same way, and when those two are together, it's a full-on comedy club.

But his life wasn't all giggles and ha-ha's. You see, Uncle Jacopo has diabetes. He was only eleven when he was diagnosed, nad loke all kids in his position, he had to really watch it when it came to what he ate and how much exercise he got. There was also checking his blood sugar every day, not to mention those insulin shots he came to know and hate. But he wasn't about to let his disease get him down. In fact, his motto was, "Life's a picnic, and I'm starving."

Anyway, back to Adam and me on the phone. "Adam, what happened?" I asked.

"I just got off the phone with Sharon," he answered in that same shaky voice. Sharon is our cousin, who's Adam's age and Uncle Jacopo's daughter. "She told me that he was driving home from the Y yesterday afternoon, and he went into insulin shock behind the wheel."

_Oh, my God, _I thought in horror. "Adam are you saying...?" I couldn't even finish my sentence.

"He—he crashed," Adam sobbed. "He lost control of his car and hit a yield sign on 85th. Died instantly."

I felt the receiver slip out of my hand and hit the floor. This wasn't how this were supposed to happen. People were supposed to live to be old, not this. And especially not how he died. He was only forty-five. That's way too young to go.

I couldn't breathe. I thought my heart was going to stop right then and there. I honestly believed I was going to die next.

_Please, God, not him, _I thought. Death would've hurt so much less.

The next thing I knew, I felt my right fist clench, my right arm raise, and before I knew what I was doing, I saw my fist ram into a glass picture frame on the wall. But for some reason, it didn't fall and break. And that's when I lost it. I mean completely. In a rage, I started punching the living shit out of that wall with both fists and screaming Italian profanity at the top of my lungs. I couldn't control myself. I thought my whole body was going to burst into flames.

I would've kept it up if two orderlies hadn't run and grabbed me. One of them was a huge bear of a man, and the grip he had on my arm was strong enough that I couldn't even move. "Calm down, buddy," he barked as they sat me down on a chair. "Oh, man, you're bleeding! Dr. Snow!"

I looked down at my right hand. My knuckles were covered in blood, and I could see a tiny piece of bone sticking out, so I knew I'd broken my hand. Fortunately, the ring was safe at home on my nightstand, so I didn't have to worry about it. Dr. Snow knew it, too, because the first thing he did when he saw me was tell the orderlies to take me for some X-rays.

Even now, except for seeing Rose nurse the baby for the first time, and getting a truckload of gifts from Mom, Dad, and my sisters, I still don't remember what else happened that day. All I know is that shortly before my firstborn son came into the world, my favorite uncle—_our _favorite uncle—had died.

The memorial service took place about two weeks later. All of us were gathered on the beach at Cape Cod to scatter Uncle Jacopo's ashes across the sea. He was always a water expert, and it made perfect sense that he'd be laid to rest here.

"'I will lift up mine eyes unto the mountain, from whence cometh my help'," the priest read as Mom and Aunt Pia scattered my uncle's remains over the freezing cold water. I also saw Gran, who was on my left, clutching her crucifix and crossing herself as she softly repeated what the priest was reading, and in Italian, mind you. Then I knew that she was remembering the night the _Titanic _sank, and the stories I'd heard from her about a boy named David Ryan, and how he was one of the many people who didn't survive. I could only imagine what must have been going through her mind, having lost her father and brother, as well as a dear friend. And now, she'd lost her only son.

As for me, I was sad that we'd never see my uncle again, but at the same time, I knew he wasn't really gone. As I looked down at Steve, who was fast asleep in my arms, I could feel my uncle's presence near me, and I knew he was watching over my family.

_Dear, dear Uncle Jacopo, _I thought. _I know you'll never really be far from us. I know you're okay. And I know you'll live on through my son, and your grandchildren, and great-nieces and nephews that will soon be here. Thank you for being a part of our lives, and we'll see you in heaven. Amen._


	10. Part 4: Steve Everett

A/N: In case you're wondering, I was not around in 1963.

**PART FOUR: Steve Everett**

_May-June, 1974_

It was a pretty typical Saturday morning on Long Island. Dad was at work, Mom was loading the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, and my siblings and I were sitting in the living room watching _Archie's Funhouse _on TV. I was laying on the couch with our Siamese cat, Annie, my five-year-old sister, Dee Dee, was sitting on the floor by the recliner, and my fourteen-month-old brother, Michael, was toddling around in his walker. As usual, he managed to walk right in front of the TV.

"Michael!" Dee Dee protested. She hates it when he does that, and even more when she's playing with her Barbie dolls or whatever, and the next thing she knows, there's Michael standing right in her way. Mom and Dad have told her a million times that he just wants to play with her, but can't put it into words because he's only a baby. And then Dee Dee starts with the whole "you love him more than me" sob story, and then—well, you get the idea, right?

Anyway, Dee Dee had just about had enough with her baby brother getting in the way of the TV. She got up and marched over to where Michael was, and turned his walker around. _"This _is where you're supposed to play, okay?" she said as she angrily pushed him toward the corner of the couch. "Playing, here; TV, there. Any questions?"

"Like the baby really understands you," I scoffed.

"Butt out, Stevie," she shot back.

"Well, now you know how _I _felt when you used to get into the pegs while I was playing with the Lite-Brite," I retorted. I know I probably should've just kept my mouth shut, but for some reason, I can't resist a good argument. Michael must feel the same way, because instead of going back to where he was, he just stood there watching us.

"I never did that!" Dee Dee exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips. She was really mad now. That's Dee Dee for you. Every time someone disagrees with her about anything, she gets all bent out of shape about it. My Aunt Nancy once said that Dee Dee was five going on sixteen.

"Yes, you did," I insisted. "And don't think I forgot about the time I chased you around and stepped on one of them. I'm surprised I didn't bleed to death all over the place!"

"You're just making that up," Dee Dee accused.

"I am not. You just don't remember."

"Says who?"

All of a sudden, a rattle came flying across the room and hit Dee Dee square on the top of her right foot. And she wasn't wearing any shoes or socks, either. As warm as our house is, we hardly ever do, especially in the winter. It drives Mom nuts, because she's always telling us that we'll catch a cold if we don't at least wear our slippers. She's one to talk, though. Even in the coldest weather, she always lets Michael run around the house in just a diaper.

Well, needless to say, that rattle to the foot was the last straw for Dee Dee. "MOM-MEEEE!" she wailed, her face turning bright red. "MICHAEL THREW HIS RATTLE AT MEEEEE!"

I rolled my eyes. Michael couldn't have thrown the rattle very hard, because Dee Dee didn't even have a bruise on her foot. But like always, she acted like her own brother could've put her in the hospital. I knew she wasn't really crying, either. If you ask me, I think Dee Dee wrote the book on fake-crying.

Just then, I heard the doorbell ring. "I'll get it," I told my siblings, eager to get away from Dee Dee's little fit. I went to the door and opened it to find Uncle Ken, Aunt Laura, and my twelve-year-old cousin, Gino.

"Hi, Steve," Aunt Laura said.

"Hi!" I grinned as I jumped into her arms.

Let me back it up here. I'm Steve Everett, I'm eight years old, and as you may have guessed, I'm the oldest of three kids. We live in a four-bedroom house just outside of Southampton. Mom and Dad bought the house before I was born, and Uncle Ken co-signed the loan for them. From what Mom has told me, her parents—my Granddad Bruno and Grandmother Christine—didn't exactly approve of Dad, because his family wasn't rich. Now, isn't that the dumbest thing you've ever heard?

Another thing about Uncle Ken is that he has a black belt in karate. He was also an instructor during the Vietnam War, until the community center where he'd taught at was bombed. Thankfully, he wasn't killed, but it cost him his hearing in his left ear, so he now has a hearing aid. But in spite of his handicap, he can still teach, and even runs his own karate school out in Cincinnati. I still remember the time he showed me the picture of him sparring with Elvis. How cool is that?

Anyway, back to Uncle Ken, Aunt Laura, and Gino at the door. "Come on in," I said as Aunt Laura passed me to Uncle Ken.

"Thanks," Gino said. "Hey, Pop, my turn next."

Laughing, Uncle Ken passed me to Gino. I thought for sure he wouldn't be able to hold onto me, especially since he's about five years older than me, but somehow, Gino was strong enough for that. Well, for about five seconds.

"Okay, down you go," he said as he set me down. "Next time, kid, wait'll you're on the ground before hugging me."

"Deal," I laughed, and the four of us headed into the living room.

Upon hearing who had come in, Dee Dee turned off the phony-baloney waterworks, and turned around in one second flat. "HI!" she shrieked, running up and diving into Aunt Laura's arms. Then she passed her to Uncle Ken, but this time, Gino was able to hold her.

"Say, is your mother here?" Uncle Ken asked.

"Yeah, she's in the kitchen," I answered. Nodding, Uncle Ken headed in there as Gino sat on the couch with Dee Dee still clinging to him like a boa constrictor on a log. I could tell Michael had the same idea, because he was reaching up for anyone who would take him out of that walker.

"There's my big boy!" Aunt Laura said sweetly as she lifted him out. Then, sitting in the recliner and putting Michael in her lap, she asked, "So, Steve, how's school been going?"

"Oh, the usual," I said. "Writing in cursive, adding and subtracting big numbers, trying to find a cure for cooties. You'd think the Surgeon General would've done something about it by now. Either that or the cafeteria's crappy food."

When I said that, Aunt Laura almost had a fit from laughing. "You know, someday you'll start liking girls," she managed to say.

"Uh-huh," I said, shaking my head. Leave it to Aunt Laura to say something like that!  
Just then, from the kitchen, we heard Mom's voice say, "Wow, that's great, Ken! I'm sure John and the kids would enjoy a vacation like this."

"Like what, Mom?" I asked as she and Uncle Ken came out of the kitchen. Both of them had the biggest smiles on their faces, and I could tell they had great news.

"Well, Steve," Mom said as they sat down on the couch, "your Uncle Ken was just telling me that they're taking their annual trip to Cape Cod, and they've invited us to go with them."

"Not just you guys," Uncle Ken added. "We've also invited your Uncle Adam, Aunt Vicki, and their girls."

"Really? Far out!" I exclaimed. Of all my aunts and uncles, those two are my favorites. Their girls, LeeAnn and Cindy, are about the same ages and Dee Dee and me, and they're a lot of fun. They're almost always singing, dancing, and putting on little plays for everybody. Once in a while, they'll ask us to be in them. I guess when you've been taking dance classes and singing lessons from the time you could walk, it makes sense to do that sort of thing.

As soon as Dee Dee heard those names, she immediately let go of Gino and jumped off his lap. _"We're going to see Uncle Adam and Aunt Vicki! We're going to see Uncle Adam and Aunt Vicki!" _she squealed, bouncing all over the living room. Then she stopped and asked, "What's Cape Cod?"

"It's this little beach town in Massachusetts," Uncle Ken told her as a purring Annie made herself comfortable right on his lap. "We've been going there every summer since we've been married. In fact, your granny and grandfather used to take your mommy and me there when we were kids."

"Say, isn't that where you and Dad met?" I asked.

"It sure is," Mom answered. "Your Gamma used to work for a man who had a cabin there. One summer, he and his wife had to go to their son's wedding in Newark, so he told her they could stay there for a couple of weeks. And like the saying goes, the rest is history."

That's when Uncle Ken started laughing. "What's so funny, Ken?" Aunt Laura asked.

"I was just remembering the first time I met John," he grinned. "I'd just come back to our spot with a couple of Cokes, and who do you think I see carrying my baby sister out of the water?"

"He didn't!" Aunt Laura exclaimed as she started to laugh, too.

Upon hearing that, Dee Dee looked up at Mom with a concerned look on her face. Then, in the most serious, grown-up voice she could muster, she asked, "Mommy, was Daddy kidnapping you?"

Let me tell you, we all practically busted our guts from laughing so hard. In fact, we were so loud that Annie was off my uncle's lap and out of the room faster than you can say, "Dumb Dora is so dumb..." (Okay, all together now: "HOW DUMB IS SHE?")

"No, sweetie, Daddy wasn't kidnapping me," Mom managed to gasp out. "He was coming to my rescue."

"He didn't want to wait for the lifeguard, did he?" Gino suggested.

"No, he didn't," Mom answered. Then, turning to Uncle Ken, she added, "And I'm still grateful you didn't knock him all the way to Boston."

"Well, after he saved you, I just couldn't," Uncle Ken smiled, giving Mom a kiss.

This was going to be the best summer ever.

_"Oh, Candy an' Ronnie, have-you-seen-them-yet? Oh, but they're so spaced out; B-B-B-Bennie an'-the-Jets-s-s-! Oh, but they're weird an'-a won-der-ful; Oh, Ben-nie she's-a real-ly keen. She got e-lec-tric boots, a mo-hair suit, ya-know-I-read-it-in-a-maga-za-ine-o, oh-h-h-h...B-B-B-Bennie-an'-the-Jets!"_

That's what we were all singing along with as we drove the many miles to Cape Cod: Mom, Dad, Uncle Ken, Aunt Laura, Gino, Dee Dee, Michael, and I. Well, most of us were. Michael was babbling along with the music, because he couldn't really talk much yet, and Dee Dee was fast asleep. As loud as we were, I'm impresed that we didn't wake her. I know there's no way I'd be able to sleep with all that racket!

Since there were so many of us, we took Mom and Dad's green station wagon. Dad drove, Mom sat in the passenger seat, Uncle Ken, Aunt Laura, and Michael sat behind them, and Gino, Dee Dee, and I sat all the way in the back. That seat was positioned so we faced the traffic behind us, and Dee Dee was laying with her head on Gino's shoulder. Our suitcases were in one of those storage compartments that you attach to the roof of your car.

The plan was that Uncle Adam and his family would meet us at the cabin, and when we all got there and unpacked, we'd all go down to the beach together, and have dinner at the seafood place that evening. I'd never really tried seafood place that evening. I'd never really tried seafood before, except for the fish sticks in the school cafeteria. But that doesn't really count, does it?

"Well, here we are!" Dad announced as we arrived at the cabin. I'd seen pictures of it from the trip they'd taken there when Dad was a teenager. But seeing it for real was a whole 'nother story. As soon as he stopped the car, I opened the back hatch and jumped out.

"Awesome," I murmured. "Boy, Dad, Gamma must have the nicest boss in the world."

"She sure did, Steve," Dad agreed. Then, turning back to the cabin, he said, "Boy, talk about _déja vu!"_

That's when the front door opened, and LeeAnn and Cindy came out. "DEE DEE! DEE DEE!" they shouted.

"LeeANN! CINDY!" Dee Dee exclaimed as the three of them ran to each other, threw their arms around each other, and started bouncing up and down in a circle as Michael started squirming in Mom's arms, trying to get in on the excitement.

"Hey, big bro!" Uncle Adam grinned as he came out.

"Hi," I said as I ran up to hug him. Just as Uncle Ken and Aunt Laura had done, Uncle Adam scooped me up in his arms. I wonder if all aunts and uncles are required to do that.

"How's it going?" Dad asked as he and Uncle Adam hugged and shook hands.

"Pretty good," Uncle Adam answered as he set me down. "We got in just last night. Oh, Vicki's in the kitchen doing the dishes. How was your trip up here?"

"Long," Dad answered.

"Just like old times, huh?"

"I'll say," Dad agreed. "So, whatever happened to that girl you met at the diner?"

"Oh, she's probably married, has a life, and has forgotten all about me. Who knows?"

I was passing by them with one of the suitcases when I heard that. "You met a girl?" I asked. This sounded like a pretty interesting conversation they were having.

"I didn't," Dad answered. "Your uncle did."

"What was her name?" I went on.

"Holly," Uncle Adam said. "Nice girl, too. I never figured out her last name, though."

"You didn't kiss her, did you?" I asked. I could just picture my uncle as a kid, giving some girl a kiss. Blecch!

"Inside, and help your mom unpack," Dad ordered, turning me around so I was facing the cabin.

"Good idea," I agreed. Anything to get my mind off the thought of what must have happened when they were kids.

Since the cabin was big enough for all of us, here were the sleeping arrangements: Gino and I in the upstairs bedroom on the far left, Uncle Ken and Aunt Laura next to us, Uncle Adam and Aunt Vicki in the one on the far right, and the three girls in the one between those two. Mom and Dad were in the downstairs bedroom, which had enough room to set up Michael's playpen so he could room with them. With that many people in one house, it's a good thing there was plenty of room!

A few minutes after we finished unpacking, we were all heading down to the beach. I could only imagine what other people were thinking as they saw the twelve of us making our way toward our spot, and I also wondered if LeeAnn or Cindy would start singing "Do Re Mi". They didn't, of course, but I'll bet my Hot Wheels collection that they wanted to.

When we got to our spot on the beach and started setting up, Dee Dee looked up at Mom and said, "Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom."

Let me tell you, as a parent, those are the last words in the world you want to hear from your kid after walking all that way. "Why didn't you go before we left?" Mom asked. I could tell she was getting really annoyed.

"I did, but I have to go again," Dee Dee whimpered.

"Me too," Cindy spoke up.

Sighing, Mom turned to Aunt Vicki and said, "We'll be right back."

"Sure, no problem," Aunt Vicki said. Then she turned to the rest of us said. "Anyone else need to go?"

We shook our heads, and Mom took Dee Dee and Cindy to the concession stand's bathroom.

Now that I think about it, and what happened next, it's a good thing they had to go.

Gino, Dad, and I had just finished setting up when out of nowhere, we heard a group of people wolf-whistling and whooping it up and someone screaming, "Oh, my God, what the hell is he doing!"

"Don't look at him!" another voice shouted.

I looked up, and running across the beach was a guy who looked old enough to be in college. At first, I didn't know why people were getting so freaked out, mostly because the sun was in my eyes. But when he ran past us, I saw that he was butt-naked. I mean, _completely. _He had on shades and a Red Sox cap—the one team I hate the most, by the way—but that was pretty much it.

I couldn't believe what I'd just seen. I'd heard a lot of stories about people streaking in the most unusual places, especially that one time at the Oscars. But until now, I never saw anyone actually do it. Well, unless you count my brother, but he's just a baby. My sister and cousins used to when they were younger. Even I used to. But that was totally different. We were just little kids, and we did it at home. This was a grown man in public.

Anyway, Dad and Aunt Laura very quickly put their hands over LeeAnn's and my eyes, and there was no way they were going to take them away until they were sure the guy was gone. I wondered if we'd have to spend the whole vacation blindfolded.

After a while, they took their hands away from our eyes. Dad then knelt down to my level, and through clenched teeth, he said, "If any of you kids _ever_ think about doing something like that, I will kill you."

I won't lie to you, I was surprised, even more than when I saw that streaker. Dad never talks to _anyone_ like that. On the other hand, I knew he was thinking of our safety, because there are some real creeps out there.

"Sure, Dad, no problem," I agreed.

"Okay. Now, let's finish setting up."

I nodded, and helped Gino set up the beach umbrellas. And there was no way I was telling Mom and Aunt Vicki what I saw when they got back.

After that little fracas, you'd think the rest of that day would just be smooth sailing, right?

Wrong.

I was helping Dee Dee and Cindy build a sand castle while Gino was in the water with LeeAnn. Michael was nearby digging a hole with that little red sand shovel of his. If I know my baby brother, the one thing he loves is getting dirty. Whether it's sand, mud, or just plain dirt, if you let Michael at it, he'll love you till the day you die.

"Let's trying to putting another tower on this side," Dee Dee suggested. Nodding, I got up to go over to where she was. But just when I got up, I felt someone crash into me from behind. It was so hard that I fell right into the castle. And not only did this SOB not stop to see if I was okay, but he also got up and ran off, stepping on the back of my shoulder as he went.

"HEY!" Cindy shouted. Boy, was she mad.

"I'm okay," I reassured her as I got up. And that's when I saw who ran me over. He looked about a head taller and twenty pounds heavier than me, I'd say old enough to be going into fifth grade. And here he was, just catching a Frisbee, and not even caring that he'd almost killed me, or wrecked our sand castle.

Rubbing my shoulder and spitting out sand, I stormed over to him and stood right in his path. "Hey, _figlio de troia!" _I barked. Even though Mom and Dad have told us kids to never talk that way (even though they do that themselves), I was too fired up to think about that. I didn't even care that this kid looked big enough to break me in half.

"What do you want?" he sneered.

"You just wrecked our sand castle, and almost put me in the hospital! What's it look like!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. I could feel my blood boiling and my skin getting hotter by the second. Who did this kid think he was?

"So what?"

"So, watch where you're going!"

"Oh, and I suppose you're going to make me?" he laughed. "I'd like to see you try."

That did it. Drawing back my fist, I punched this kid as hard as I could, right in the stomach. I thought for sure he'd hunch over in pain. But instead, he just looked at me and grinned. I can hit pretty hard, especially since I play football, and even Uncle Ken had taught me a few moves. But this time, nothing happened.

"Thanks, I had a fly on me," he said. "Now, I think there's one behind you." And with that, he put his hand over my face, shoved me backward into the sand and started to leave. It was bad enough that a bigger kid had gotten the better of me, but in front of all these people? That's when I really saw red.

Jumping up, I ran over and tackled him from behind. We both hit the sand and started rolling around. "How do you like it, huh?!" I screamed as I started wailing on him. "How do you like it!"

The next thing I knew, a strong pair of arms had wrapped themselves around my chest, yanked me off the kid, and spun me around. I found myself face-to-face with Uncle Adam. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded. "That kid is more than twice your size!"

"But he started it!" I protested. "You saw what he did to our sand castle!"

"I don't care," he shot back. "You know what your mom and dad have always told you about fighting. Now, come back to our spot and sit there until you can calm down. And don't let us catch you doing anything like this again or you'll be sorry."

Sulking, I followed Uncle Adam back to our spot, and sat down on my towel. I knew Mom and Dad saw what had happened, and they couldn't wait for their turn to chew me out. Didn't any of them know that I was just standing up for my cousins and sister.? And besides, that's what big brothers are supposed to do.

Then I felt a hand on my back, and heard Dad's voice saying, "We need to talk."

"Let me save you the trouble: you're right, I'm wrong; you're smart, I'm stupid, and I don't care," I muttered. I just wanted to be left alone.

"I wish I could save it, but you know me," Dad said. "Steve, do you know what a Napoleon complex is?"

Still looking down, I shook my head.

"You've heard the story of Napoleon Bonaparte, haven't you?"

"I think so. He ws the Waterloo guy, wasn't he?"

"That's right," Dad answered. "And he was also known for being a pretty small guy. But like you just now, he always went after guys who were bigger and tougher than he was. Come to think of it, I was just like you when I was a kid. I still remember that time I got into a fight with Joey Ricks and his dad."

I looked up at him in surprise. "You got in a fight with both of them?" I exclaimed.

"No, just Joey. You see, his dog was making too much noise, and when I went over to his house to tell him to shut the dog up, and then his dad butted in and called one of my friends a really dirty name. I was just about to hit him, but Joey tackled me first, and we went at it. We would've kept it up if your grandfather and one of the neighbors hadn't broken it up."

"Wow," I said. I was really impressed. "If I'd been there, I would've given you a hand."

I guess that was the wrong thing to say, because the next thing Dad did was sahake his head. "You're missing the point here, son," he told me. I could tell he was trying very hard not to blow his stack. "The point is, I could've just walked away, but I didn't. I felt like I had to prove that I could be a real man, even if it meant getting seriously hurt. And that's what could've happened to you just now."

I thought it over for a minute, and then I realized Dad was right. Not only that, but I also thought of that kid shoving me down right in front of everybody, and how humiliating it was. He made me feel less than human. In fact,t hat jerk made me feel like the scrawniest, ugliest worm on the face of the earth.

That was all it took for me to start crying. I mean _really. _Honestly,I hadn't cried this much since Granddad Bruno died last March.

"Come here, son," Dad said gently as he pulled me up on his lap. Sobbing, I rested my head on his shoulder and he put his arms around me. I felt like I was three years old again.

"I was just trying to do the right thing," I blubbered.

"I know you were, and I'm proud of you for standing up for Dee Dee and your cousins," Dad said. But like I've always told you, it takes a bigger man to just walk away. And I hope you'll do that next time, okay?"

"Okay," I whispered as I managed to pull myself together.

"Okay. Now, let's get in the water, huh?"

"Sure," I grinned as we stood up. "Race you." The second I was on my feet, I was charging toward the ocean like a runaway bull. Despite what just happened, I had a good feeling about the rest of our vacation.


	11. Steve 2

A/N: Yes, Abby and Anna Stevenson's folks are in the story, too.

**STEVE 2**

_December, 1979_

_"Happy birth-day to yo-o-ou, happy birth-day to yo-o-ou. Happy birth-day dear Dee Dee-e-e...Happy birth-day to yo-o-ou..."_

That's what we were all singing at Uncle Ken and Aunt Laura's house. Dee Dee was eleven years old today, and believe me, she was loving every second of it. One minute, she was a little girl; the next, she was stretching toward womanhood. To her, being eleven meant that she was just two years away from being your average angst-ridden teenager, which was currently my job, as Mom and Dad would say. It also meant she could finally dress the way she wanted, and choose her own hairstyle. Today, she was wearing a black long-sleeved shirt and blue bell-bottoms, and her hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail, was so long that she could literally sit on it. She even got her ears pierced, much to Mom's chagrin. Any parent who has a daughter in this age group knows that once that happens, that kid is no longer yours. She is her own person. Goodbye, Girl Scout cookies and Shaun Cassidy; hello, cigarettes and AC/DC.

"Open my present first!" Michael said excitedly.

"No, mine!" Amanda jumped in.

"Okay, okay, just relax," Dee Dee smiled, reaching for a present. "I'll open all your presents, guys, but I think I'll start with this one."

I think it's time to explain a few things here. Since our summer vacation in Cape Cod, as you can guess, my family has grown. Like I said, Dee Dee was turning eleven; Michael was now six; and we added two new memebers to the family, so I have another brother and sister. Amanda is four, and Jacob is two. He's sort-of named after our Great-Uncle Jacopo, who had been killed in a car accident around the time I was born.

You're also probably wondering why we're still in Cincinnati, especially now that it was December. Well, we'd spent Thanksgiving with Uncle Ken, Aunt Laura, and Gino, who was now eighteen. It had already been a week since Thanksgiving, and the reason why we were still here is because a huge blizzard had hit New York, so we couldn't get home. Luckily, Dee Dee, Michael, and I had brought our school books with us, so we'd be caught up on our work.

Okay, back to Dee Dee's birthday. The first present she opened was from Michael. "Oh, wow!" she exclaimed. Michael's present was a copy of Olivia Newton-John's newest record, _Totally Hot. _"I've been dying to get this one for weeks, so how'd you swing it?"

"Well, it wasn't easy," Michael confessed. "I had to give up a lot of the necessities of life. Baseball cards, Happy Meal toys, girls."

"Mikey, you're only six!" I laughed.

"Okay, just baseball cards and Happy Meal toys."

"Thanks, little brother," Dee Dee smiled, and the two of them hugged.

After Dee Dee finished opening the rest of her presents, and we all enjoyed cake and ice cream, Gino called me into the kitchen. "What's up?" I asked as I put the first load of dishes into the sink to be washed.

"Well, Steve, I've been thinking," he said. "Since you guys are still here, thianks to that blizzard, I thought maybe you and I could spend some time together before you head back to New York. Just the two of us."

"Okay. Sounds great," I agreed. "What'd you have in mind?"

And with that, Gino proudly held out his hand. In it were what appeared to be concert tickets. "Ever listen to the Who?" he grinned.

"Sure. Who doesn't?"

"Well, they're playing at Riverfront Coliseum on Monday night, and I thought we could have a little guy-time, and go see them."

"You've got to be kidding me! That is so awesome!" I exclaimed. "Man, how did you get the tickets?"

"I won them in a radio contest," Gino answered. "They were wanting to find out who could correctly guess the number of molecules in John Entwistle's beard."

"Gino!" I laughed. That's my cousin for you. Always making jokes.

But I didn't care how he got the tickets. All I could think about was being in the audience with my favorite cousin, and enjoying listening to my favorite band.

Well, the night of the concert finally came. You're probably wondering how Gino was able to convince our parents—well, mine, specifically—to let me go to the concert with him, especially since I was only thirteen. The one thing he promised them was that he'd watch out for me, which he always did, for as long as I could remember. They still had their doubts, but they finally decided it would be okay.

Now that I look back on it, there was no way I would've said yes if I were them.

We arrived at the parking lot outside the coliseum, which was jam-packed. And with our luck, our parking space looked like it was a million miles away from the front door. Neither of us were surprised, though. I mean, this was the fucking Who, for crying out loud. And besides, we were told that it was festival seating, which is another name for general admission. As in first come, first served. You get the idea, right?

"Hey, Gino, looks like we're not going to get in, man," I said with a disappointed sigh as we got out of the car.

"Have no fear, Gino's here," my cousin grinned. "You're about to get your first lesson in how to deal with crowds."

I followed Gino across the parking lot and up to where the general population was. And as it turned out, Gino's way of dealing with crowds was to go up to any random person he saw, and tell them that the concer twas actually tomorrow night, and the real reason people were here was because the Bay City Rollers were playing tonight. And some of them actually believed him! Even if I hadn't been drinking, which I'm sure most of these people were, I know I probably would've bought Gino's bullshit story, because I hate—and I mean, HATE—the Bay City Rollers. LeeAnn and Cindy, on the other hand, can't get enough of them. If you mention Andy Gibb, Shaun Cassidy, Leif Garrett, or any of those teeny-bopper, nose-in-the-air pretty-boy assholes to them, they will go crazy. The only exceptions to that genre are Peter Frampton and Tommy Shaw from Styx, mainly because they play guitar and have actual talent. In other words, as Mom would say, they're not just another pretty face.

"Wow, Gino, how the hell did you do that?" I exclaimed once we were a little closer to the doors. Sure, people were still pushing each other and fighting to keep their balance, but who gave a rat's ass?

"Lesson number one: the more the average concert-goer has had to drink beforehand, the easier he is to convince," Gino answered, sounding exactly like a college professor who's so impressed with his own intellegence that he doesn't realize what a dick he actually is.

I would've burst out laughing, but the next thing I heard was a guitar chord from inside. Naturally, it sent the crowd into a frenzy. Gino and I assumed that it was just the sound-check, but everyone else thought the concert was starting, and they started pushing and shoving each other and kicking the doors, trying to get in. Some were even clocking people as they fought their way to the doors. We were lucky we weren't one of those, but we were still being pushed and shoved against each other and other people. I thought for sure we were going to suffocate.

It was so crazy in there that Gino and I got swept away from each other. "Gino!" I gasped, looking around in panic for my cousin. "Gino, where are you?"

That's when I felt a hand snap shut around my wrist. I looked to my right, and saw a girl who looked around my age, maybe a little older. She had black shoulder-length hair, and was wearing a white turtleneck and bell bottoms, and also looked as scared as could be. I hadn't seen that look in anyone's eyes since the time Michael had been chased by our neighbor's Doberman.

"Please help me," she begged. "We have to get out of here."

I felt really bad for this girl, whoever she was, but at the same time, I needed to find Gino. My eyes darted wildly from one side of the crowd to the other. Where was he?

The next thing I knew, I was pressed up against the window next to one of the doors. I looked out of the corner of my eye, and to my horror, it was still closed! What the hell was this? Didn't anyone inside know what was going on? And didn't these people know that the show hadn't actually started yet?

"MOVE THE FUCK BACK!" I heard someone shout. I couldn't tell if it was Gino or not. People were crammed up against me so tightly that I could barely breathe. I wondered how much longer my ribs would hold out, and wished someone would open the damn door already.

Well, the door did eventually open—outward, no less—and that's when the stampede started.

I was still beside the door, and the people that were wedged in behind me backed off and made their way inside. I sank to my knees and tried my hardest to catch my breath when I heard a voice yelling, _"Steve! Steve, where are you, kid?!"_

_"GINO!" _I shouted. _"Over here!"_

_"Keep talking, let me follow your voice!"_

_"I'm over here by the door!"_

After a few seconds, Gino had fought his way through the crowd and gotten to me. Except for a few bruises and a busted lip, he seemed okay.

"You all right?" he asked. Gasping, I nodded. "Good. Come on!"

We somehow managed to get inside out of the cold, but in our struggle to keep up with the crowd, I tripped over what I thought was my foot. Down I went, still holding onto Gino's hand so I wouldn't be on the ground. I didn't want to get trampled, and I held on with everything I had. But it was no use. I knew I was losing my grip, and there was no way I'd make it out of there alive.

_"SHIIIIIT!"_

That was the last thing I heard my cousin scream before I hit the floor.

The next thing I felt was my head pounding. I opened my eyes, but all I saw was white light. I thought for sure I'd gotten a concussion, or I was going blind. Not only that, but I felt myself on my back and strapped down onto something. My next thought was that I was lying dead in one of those cold metal drawers at the morgue, and my parents were waiting to identify me. But that couldn't be it, either. For one thing, I heard the sound of wheels squeaking across the floor, as well as a woman's voice saying, "I think he's coming around, Bob."

When my vision cleared, I found myself lying on a gurney being wheeled outside. The cold air hit me like a wave. "Gino?" I said weakly.

"It's all right, son," a man's voice said. "You're going to be okay."

"Wh—what?" I whispered. I didn't even know where I was, or if the concert was still going on. And on top of that, I had no idea what happened to Gino, or if he was okay.

On the way across the parking lot, I could see the red and blue flashing lights from the ambulances and cop cars lighting up the night sky. And that's when I knew that people were hurt. I felt my eyes drift to the left, and right there in front of me were jackets, shoes, and other pieces of clothing strewn all over, as well as two paramedics standing over a guy and covering him with a sheet.

"Oh, my God," I whispered in disbelief. I knew he was dead, and I'd somehow gotten a good look at his face before they covered him up, and by some miracle, it wasn't Gino. But it still shook me up, because he was somebody's brother, cousin, son, or friend.

As I was being loaded into the ambulance, I looked out across the parking lot. There were bodies everywhere. Some were dead, others were dying, and many more were in excruciating pain. Cops, paramedics, and news people were running around like crazy. It looked like something out of _Apocalypse Now._

Then I felt it. My left arm. I looked down, which was a real chore, due to the collar on my neck, and saw that my arm was in a splint. It was obviously broken, because I couldn't feel it. It was like it wasn't even there.

"Where's Gino?" I managed to ask.

"Who?"

"My cousin," I answered, forcing myself not to get hysterical. "He's my cousin. Where is he?"

"He's on his way to the hospital right now."

Yes. Of course he was. He was going to be okay. I mean, he's _Gino. _He was always okay. That had to be the case, right? Upon hearing that, I could actually relax.

What happened next is still a blur to this day. I don't remember arriving at the hospital, the doctors putting my arm in a cast, or our parents being called. The next thing I knew, I was lying in a bed in a spotlessly white room with my family standing in front of me.

"Are you okay, Stevie?" Michael asked. I could tell he'd been crying. Dee Dee, on the other hand, was sobbing into Mom's coat.

"I think so, little brother," I said. Then, turning to Dad, I asked, "What happened?"

Dad sat down beside the bed, took my good hand in both of his, and looked me in the eye. "Your mother and I just talked to the doctor," he said. "Your arm is broken, you suffered a mild concussion, and your ribs are bruised, but there's no internal damage. When the paramedics found you, they said you were lying on the floor in the fetal position, which saved your life."

"What about Gino?"

I felt a hand on my right shoulder, and there was Aunt Laura. When I saw the look on her face, I knew right away that it wasn't good news.

"He hasn't woken up yet," she whispered.

I think my heart stopped when she said that. I honestly do. He couldn't die now, he just couildn't. He was only eighteen, and had the rest of his life ahead of him. He was also a senior in high school, and had plans to go to the University of Cincinnati in the fall, where he planned to major in Communications.

"Is he going to be okay?" I asked.

"We don't know yet," my aunt answered. "The doctor says it's still touch-and-go."

I knew Aunt Laura was still talking to me, but I didn't hear a word she said. It was only then that the impact of what had happened to us finally sank in. Gino was hurt, and hurt bad. And if he did make it, he'd be damaged for life. (I later found out that he had lived, but would be paralyzed from the chest down.)

A million thoughts went through my head that night. Besides worrying about my favorite cousin, I was angry: angry at the security guards for not bothering to open the fucking doors to let people in. Angry at the concert-goers who trampled those eleven people to death just so they could get the best seats in the arena. Angry at the ticket-takers, or lack thereof. And angry at whoever broke my arm and put Gino in the position he was in.

Gino.

_"Looks like we're not going to get in, man."_

I could hear those words playing over again in my head like a broken record.

And that was all it took for the guilt to set in, and for the knot in my throat to burst.

"I'm so sorry!" I managed to gasp out between sobs. "I'm so sorry, you guys! I should've told Gino to forget it and just go home! I wanted to see the Who, and he's probably going to die because of me! It should've been me!"

I don't know how long I kept rambling and blaming myself for everything, but while I was raving, Uncle Ken stepped in front of me and looked me dead in the eye.

"Stop," he told me, but I was too worked up to listen to him. "Stop. STOP...Steve, listen to me. This is not your fault. These things just happen."

"Boy, I've never heard that one before," I managed to say as I wiped my tears. Mom handed me a tissue, but I couldn't even hold onto it, I was such a mess.

"Maybe the news is on," Dad suggested, turning on the TV.

We all sat glued to the TV as we listened to the report of what happened at the concert. The one thing that stuck out in my mind more than anything else was seeing the pictures of the eleven fans who didn't make it. I could only imagine the looks on their families' faces whey they found out. I even felt sorrier for the oldest victim, because the report said she'd been the mother of two, and was at the concert with her husband. That was bad enough, but worst of all, those poor kids would grow up never remembering her. (By the way, I'm happy to say that the girl who grabbed me by the wrist was not among them.)

I know you may be thinking that nothing good can come out of this, but somehow, something actually did. Besides the ban on festival seating in most cities, the families of those eleven fans—not to mention those dozens of others who were injured, including us—were awarded money, thanks to them suing the city, the promoter, the owners of the Riverfront, and the Who themselves. Personally, I don't think they should've been blamed, because they had no idea what had happened until after the show. If they had, there was no way they would've gone through with it. They were still held responsible, though, and after what seememd like forever, all those lawsuits were finally settled.

That wasn't going to bring those fans back, of course. Nothing would. But if anything, at least now the people in charge would do everything they possibly could to make sure this never happened again, even though they had to learn it the hard way.

_Summer, 1984_

My family and I were returning home from my high school graduation. Dee Dee was now fifteen; Michael, eleven; Amanda, nine; and Jacob, six. Since our trip to Cincinnati, we've added the last two members to our family: twins Paula and Patrick—or Pat, as we call him—who are three and a half. Pat has Down's syndrome, so some things are a little harder for him. But other than that, he's still the sweetest kid ever.

"Boy, what a day, huh?" Mom said as we got in the door.

"I'll say," Dad agreed. "And just think, Rose, we have to go through this five more times."

Upon hearing that, Mom made a weird noise, like a cross between a groan and a sigh. I could tell she was visualizing having to sit through all that.

Just then, Paula let out a huge yawn. I knew what that meant. She and Pat had quite a long day, and it was time for the Sandman to do his duty.

"All right, bedtime, you two," Dad told them.

"Bedtime," Pat agreed. That's Pat for you. Whenever any adult tells him to do something, he always repeats what they say before doing it.

"Say, Mom, if you want, I could give the twins their bath," I volunteered.

"I thought it was Dee Dee's turn," Mom said as she hung my cap and gown in the closet under the stairs.

"Mom, remember?" Dee Dee reminded her. "I'm spending the night at Heather's."

"Oh, that's right," Mom recalled. "Well, have fun."

"Thanks, Mom," Dee Dee smiled.

"Don't stay up too late," Dad added.

"We won't," Dee Dee promised. After giving Mom, Dad, and me hugs, she hurried upstairs to grab her knapsack.

A few minutes later, I was kneeling beside the tub and bathing the twins. "Are you really leaving for Canada tomorrow, Stevie?" Paula asked as I finished rinsing the soap suds off her shoulders and back. Pat, meanwhile, was too busy playing with the little plastic Smurf boat, so he wasn't listening to our conversation.

"Yup," I answered. "I'm going with some of my friends from school, kind of like celebrating being all done with school and getting together one last time before college."

"What's college?"

"It's kind of like a bigger school. Remember when Mommy and Daddy told you about when they went to one?"

"Oh, yeah," Paula remembered. "Is that where Mommy was a cash-er?"

"That's cash-_ier," _I corrected her. "And yes, that's what she did."

"When can I go to college?"

"When you're all grown up," I answered. "Okay, time to get out now."

"Want to pull the plug, Pattie?" Paula asked. I didn't think he'd hear her at all, as preoccupied with that boat as he was. But surprisingly, he nodded, handed it to me, and pulled the plug. The one thing you can always expect when bathing the twins is for them to keep watching the water go down the drain until it was all the way gone. And no, they never once thought they could get sucked down the drain in the process.

I helped them into their Underoos and T-shirts, then the three of us went into the living room. "Goodnight, Mommy; goodnight, Daddy," Paula said, giving Mom and Dad a hug and kiss.

"Will you read us a story, Mommy?" Pat asked.

"Sure," Mom answered. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Okay," Pat smiled, and I took the twins to their room.

While Mom was with the twins, the rest of us were sitting in the living room and watching the Olympic trials on TV. The Winter Games had been in Sarajevo, and the Summer Games were going to be in L.A. this year. Dad even promised me that he'd keep me posted on how our athletes were doing while I was away.

"You know, son, it'll feel a little different not having you watching TV with us," Dad commented as he popped open a can of Coors Light.

"Yeah, I know what you mean, Dad," I agreed. "I felt the same way when Annie passed away a few years ago."

In case you're wondering, Annie was our Siamese cat from when I was a kid. One thing she loved doing was sitting with whoever was in the living room, especially with the TV on. She was still a kitten when Mom and Dad got her from the animal shelter soon after I was born, so she and I basically grew up together. I still remember coming home from school, finding her dead in the backyard, and burying her all by myself. That was hard enough, but breaking the news to everyone else was pure torture, and to this day, Michael still won't talk about it.

"We're really going to miss you, Steve," Amanda said solemnly as she curled up on my lap and rested her head on my shoulder.

"I'll miss you guys, too. But don't worry, I'll write to you as often as I can."

"Are you going alone?" Michael asked as he turned around to face me. He and Jacob were sprawled out on the floor, just like Dee Dee always did when she was little. I guess you could call this an Everett family TV tradition: Dad in his La-Z-Boy, Mom and the older kid—or kids—on the couch, and the youngest ones on the floor. That's how it was when Dad was growing up, only nowadays, we've added two beanbag chairs to the mix, which, of course, have the twins' names on them.

"No," I answered. "Remember? Jon Stevenson and two of our friends are going with us."

Michael thought for a minute. "Oh, yeah," he remembered. "He's Rachel Goldberg's boyfriend, right?"

"Yup, that's the one," I said. I thought about Rachel for a minute. We'd dated on and off when we were in junior high, and once during our sophomore year of high school, we were lab partners in Biology class. She'd already met Jon by then, and by our senior year, they were an item. I know you probably think I should've been jealous, but I wasn't. Jon's a great guy: friendly, hard-working, and funny as hell. If anyone deserves to have him for a boyfriend, it's Rachel.

"You know, I've known her dad all my life," Dad recalled. "He and his family lived next door to your grandparents."

_"Jon-ny and Ra-chel sittin' in a tree..." _Jacob started to sing, but when he saw the look on Dad's face, which clearly said, _Boy, you better shut the hell up right now if you know what's good for you, _he was quiet in one second flat.

"So, where are you guys going first?" Amanda asked.

"Toronto. You know, where Gamma and Grandfather Paul went on their honeymoon."

"Really? Think you'll see them while you're there?"

"I doubt it, Mandy," I laughed gently. "But just in case I do, I'll tell them you said hi."

"Deal," Amanda grinned as she touched the side of my hand with her toes, which, of course, led me to tickle them.

You know what? Whoever invented the saying "can't complain" must've had this moment with my family in mind, because I sure as hell couldn't complain.

It was kind of an overcast day in the Canadian countryside: breezy and low- to mid-70s, perfect for backpacking. My friends and I were in the back of this pale blue pickup truck that was being driven by a middle-aged woman with light brown graying hair and round, gold-rimmed glasses. I could tell she worked in a factory or had some kind of blue-collar job, because her hands were covered with scabs and callouses. She also had a half-inch scar on her right wrist. Don't get me wrong, she was very nice and all, but I still hated to be the poor bastard who got on her bad side.

"Well, here's were I let you off, boys," she said in her heavy French-Canadian accent as we came to a stop near a fork in the road.

"Thanks, ma'am," Jon said as we got out.

"No problem," she answered. "Just keep going straight until you reach the Shell station two and a half kilometers from here. There's an inn right across the road from it."

"Thanks a lot," I called as she drove off.

After putting our backpacks on, the four of us started in that direction: Jon, me, and two other guys we'd known since kindergarten, Brian Curtis and Julio Martinez.

"That was nice of her to give us a ride," I commented.

"I'll say," Julio agreed. "Not many drivers would be that nice."

"I hope she didn't think we were hitch-hikers," Jon said as he noticed a flock of geese flying overhead.

"Are you wiggin', man?" Brian laughed. "If she did, there's no way she would've picked us up."

"True," Jon said after he thought it over. "Well, that, and she didn't have a tire iron right where she could get it."

"Hey, who needs a tire iron with hands like that, _ese?" _Julio laughed. "How much you want to bet she and He-Man go to the same gym?"

I couldn't help smiling and shaking my head. If I know Jon—and I do—every time he and Julio have a conversation, it starts off very innocently, and the next thing you know, they're always trying to out-joke each other. And the dirtier the joke, the better.

"I doubt it, 'cause if She-Ra ever saw them together, it'd be hard to tell whose ass she'd kick first," Jon said, obviously trying to be serious, but we all knew that serious is not a word to describe him.

"Before or after Lion-O finds out what He-Man's been up to?" Julio asked.

"Ridiculously Homoerotic Action Figures Caught In Love Triangles. On the next _Donahue," _Jon announced. And I'm not sure how long it took us to stop laughing, but it sure took us a hell of a long time. In fact, we had to stop walking just so we could get it out of our systems.

"Okay, guys, so what's the plan?" Brian asked as soon as we'd calmed down and continued on our way.

"Well, it's almost 6:30," I said as I looked at my watch, "and we should be getting into town soon, whatever it's called, so I say we grab a bite to eat, and check into the inn that the lady told us about."

"Sure," Brian agreed. "But I meant, what's the plan for the trip in general?"

"Oh, that. Toronto first, then Montreal, and Calgary last."

"Wicked," Brian grinned as we high-fived.

Before we knew it, we were just on the edge of town, and I don't know whose idea it was, but we all started singing a really off-key rendition of "Alouette". Imagine a whole bunch of forks stuck in a garbage disposal. That's how bad we sounded. (By the way, none of us are actually bad singers. We were just so stoked to be on this trip that we figured, why not?)

_"A-alou-ett-e, gen-tille a-lou-ett-e, a-alou-ett-e, je te plu-me-rai," _we bellowed as we skipped arm-in-arm down the road, using the worst-sounding French accents this side of Pepe lé Pew. We must have been quite a sight to the locals: four high-school graduates from New York, skipping down the road like a bunch of drunk assholes who couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. I'm surprised no one beat us up or had us thrown in the slammer for disturbing the peace, now that I think about I.

The sun had already set by the time we made it into town. "There's a McDonald's," Brian pointed out as we approached the edge of town. And as luck would have it, it was catty-cornered from the inn. "I don't know about the rest of you guys, but I'm in the mood for a Big Mac."

"Sure, why not?" I said. A few minutes later, we were sitting at one of the tables by the big bay window with our dinner: a Big Mac and medium Coke for Brian, a Filet-O-Fish sandwich and a large Sprite for Jon, a double cheeseburger and a medium Hi-C for Julio, and a chicken sandwich and medium Dr. Pepper for me.

By the way, there are a few differences between American and Canadian McDonald's, besdies the menus being in both French and English. Not only did the guy who took our order shout them back toward the kitchen in French, but if there's two or more people in your group, they give you a large basket of fries for everyone to share. And at this particular location, they had a PA system that played the French version of "It's A Good Time For The Great Taste" every ten or fifteen minutes. As if "You Deserve A Break Today" wasn't bad enough!

While we were eating, I happened to look toward the front of the restaurant, and in walked two of the most gorgeous-looking girls I'd ever seen in my life. One was tall with brown hair and glasses, and the other was shorter with strawberry-blond hair and a figure that wouldn't quit. In fact, that figure of hers was working overtime. Both of them had gray eyes and dressed really sharp, like the girls in those Benetton catalogues.

"Hey, Brian," I whispered as I nudged him. "Brian, look over there."

Brian turned his head to where I was pointing, and as soon as he saw them, his fries slipped out of his hand and landed right on his sandwich. "Hel-_loooo," _he marveled, running a hand through his Jheri-curl. "Call now to make a date with destiny."

"$1.25 per minute," I added. "Must be eighteen or older."

"But if you're not, don't worry; we'll just send the bill to your parents."

Well, needless to say, Jon and Julio heard every word we were saying, and practically shit themselves from laughing. Julio even managed to spit his Hi-C across the table.

"And I thought Jon and I had dirty minds!" he gasped.

"But seriously, if you guys are so interested, why don't you just go over there and talk to them?" Jon asked.

"Let's wait'll they sit down," I suggested. "They're ordering."

"Oh, no, you don't, Everett," Julio grinned. "You know the drill: you see her, you make your move."

"And what if we don't?" Brian challenged him.

"Then I guess we'll just have to tell them about your little sales-pitch when they sit down," Jon answered with a sigh, shaking his head.

"You jerks," I laughed, doing the same as Brian and I got up from the table. We looked at each other, like, _Okay, let's do it, _and walked up to the counter.

"Are you sure you have enough money?" one of them was asking.

"I'm positive," the other one asnswered. "You know I always make sure I have enough."

"Watch this," I whispered to Brian as I fished a couple bucks out of my pocket, then, holding it out in front of me, I walked up to the girls.

"Hi, there," I said, and that's when they looked up. I was trying to act cool, sophisticated and really put together, but when I saw the shorter one, I just froze. They were both pretty girls, and the brunette was kind of cute, but that blonde was a knockout. I guess she felt she same way about me, because as soon as she saw me, she just stared at me with her mouth hanging open, and her eyes as big as an owl's. Yes, folks, there really is such a thing as love at first sight.

"Hey, Steve, you awake?" Brian asked as he nudged me from behind. That was all it took for me to snap out of it.

"Oh, yeah," I remembered. Then I said to the girls, "I couldn't help overhearing you, so I thought I'd help you out." And I handed them the money.

"Thanks," the blonde managed to say, and she handed it to the brunette, still staring at me the whole time. "So, uh—are you guys from around here?"

"New York," Brian answered. I could tell he was really checking the brunette out. "Long Island, to be exact."

"Wow," she said. "I've never been there before. Not even Niagra Falls."

"Really?" I asked. "I've never been there, either. Niagra Falls, I mean. The American side, I mean. Well, I know what it looks like from seeing _Superman II, _but I've never actually been there, you know?"

"I saw _Superman II _AND _III. _The second one was cool, but the third one sucked."

"I never saw _III."_

"Well, save your money. Sure wish I did."

_Hey, are you going to introduce yourself, or what? _I thought. That's my one flaw: when I meet a girl, I always ramble on worse than my priest before introducing myself.

"Oh, I'm Steve Everett," I finally said. "And this is my friend, Brian Curtis. Our friends Jon Stevenson and Julio Martinez are sitting over there."

I looked back at our table, and sure enough, Jon and Julio were grinning and waving at us like we were in sixth grade again.

"Well, I'm Marie Ross, and the girl paying for our food is my sister Jacqui," she smiled. And what a righteous smile she had, too. It kind of made me wonder if she used a mini-sandblaster on her teeth to get them that shade of white. "So, how long are you in town for?"

"A few weeks, at the most," I answered.

"Toronto first, then Montreal, and Calgary last," Brian added, then went up to the counter to try to get to know Jacqui. Not surprisingly, they hit it off right away, and as they were talking, he flashed me a look that said, _Hundred bucks says I get this chick's phone number _and_ a night in the sack with her before this trip's over. Get out your wallets, guys!_

"Oh. Well, if you're looking for a place to spend the night, our dad owns the inn across the street from here," Marie said. "I can talk to him if you'd like."

"Okay," I agreed. "Sounds great."

Was this my lucky day or what?

After a while, the four of us—well, actually six, counting Jon and Julio—were talking about the things every high school grad in the '80s talked about: cars, movies, sports, and maybe a word or two about college.

I'm not too sure about the other guys, but so far, I really, _really_ loved Canada.


	12. Steve 3

**STEVE 3**

_Fall, 1984-Summer, 1989_

I never really gave much thought to what kind of girl Marie actually was. I did know that she was a lot of fun: brash, outgoing, irrepressible, and hardly ever in a bad mood. Whenever we went out, she would sometimes go up to total strangers and say the silliest things. I still remember the time she and Jacqui came down to Long Island for a visit, and we took Brian with us to see _Howard the Duck _(or, as I like to call him, _Howard the Schmuck). _All through the movie, Marie pretended to take notes and act like she was a movie critic. That was funny enough, but after it ended, she turned to me and said, in the best Rod Serling voice she could muster, "Overall rating on a scale of one to five, I give this motion picture—and I use the term loosely—just a sixteenth of a star."

I don't know about the other patrons thought of Marie's analysis, but as for Brian and me, it took us quite a while to stop laughing. Jacqui, on the other hand, was sitting there with her head in her hands. Apparently, she'd known Marie to act that way before, and as her sister, she considered her incapable of not embarrassing her every time she opened her mouth.

But despite Marie's little quirks, I still enjoyed being with her, and eventually fell in love with her, enough to look into the possibility of moving up to Canada after I graduated from NYU. It took a lot of work—specifically, applying for my green card—but we found a nice two-bedroom apartment in downtown Toronto, and Marie's father, Jean-Phillipe (pronounced "ZHONN fill-EEP"), or JP, for short, even gave me a job at the inn. And I guess you've figured out how the rest of this story goes, right?

I didn't know it at the time, but I was about to find myself in way over my head. As I later found out, Marie—the girl I loved more than anything else in the world, and the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with—was manic-depressive.

_December 2, 1989_

The day of the wedding finally arrived: chilly, sunny, and slightly breezy. And since it's a tradition to have the wedding in the bride's hometown, we were in Toronto. I'd originally thought we'd be staying at the inn, but with so many guests, not all of us were able to get a room there. So the rest of us stayed at the Super 8 Motel, which was where the ceremony was going to be.

_Steve, you are one lucky son of a bitch, _I thought as I put on my bowtie that morning. _And Marie sure got the pick of the litter when she was picking a husband._

In the meantime, Michael—who was going to be my best man—was in the shower, and I could hear him singing "Get Me To The Church On Time". Only, in this case, since the wedding was actually there at the hotel, he said "lobby" instead of "church". But you get the idea, right?

I'd just finished buffing my shoes when I heard a knock at the door. When I opened it, there was Dad. "Come on in," I said.

"You look nice," Dad said as I shut the door.

"Thanks," I answered, heading twoard the desk chair to get my jacket.

"Boy, I'll tell you, son, this is nothing like when I married your mother," Dad commented. "Mostly because we eloped."

"You didn't go to a wedding chapel, did you?"

"Nope, City Hall. Come to think of it, I never did get around to playing that golf game I promised I'd play with the judge."

Even though I think golf is the most boring game ever invented, I couldn't help but laugh.

Changing the subject, Dad pulled a little black box out of his vest pocket and sat down on the bed. "I've got something for you," he said.

I sat down beside him. "What is it?" I asked.

He opened the box. Inside was his ring. You know, the one with the little flag of Italy engraved on the side, and had a tiny diamond right in the center. "This ring has been passed down among the firstborn sons in my family for the past six generations," he said. "Now, you are the lucky seventh generation to possess it. It ws given to your great-great-great-great-grandfather on his wedding night, and it was given to me by your Great-Uncle Jacopo when I graduated from high school. I thought today would be an appropriate day to give it to you."

My eyes misted over with tears. "Thanks, Dad," I said as I put the ring on my finger. Or tried to. It wouldn't fit on my ring finger, so I put it on my pinky. "I'll keep it forever."

"Your great-uncle Jacopo would be pleased to know that you are wearing his ring," Dad said, putting his arm across my shoulders.

"Thanks again," I said as the two of us hugged. This was the best present eer.

The rest of that day was so wonderful, and Marie looked amazing in her wedding dress: long-sleeved with a six-inch train and little rhinestones on the skirt, and puffy shoulders. When she passed under the skylight, as JP walked her down the aisle, she looked like the angel that Aunt Nancy and Uncle Jack have on their Christmas tree. She ws one hell of a beautiful bride.

After the reception, we got into Marie's blue Jeep and drove to the airport. We were going to Niagra Falls for our honeymoon, and boy, were we stoked. This was the first time for both of us, and best of all, it wasn't too cold out.

"I thought for sure they'd be closed this time of year," Marie commented as we drove up the highway.

I nodded. "I'm not too sure, but I think if it gets below freezing, then it's closed."

"Makes sense," Marie said, nodding.

We couldn't wait to get there. This was going to be a blast.

It was already dark by the time we arrived. Our hotel room was on the third floor, with a _great _view of the falls. And in case you're wondering, yes, I carried Marie over the threshold.

"So, uh—what do you want to do first?" I asked her after the bellhop left the room. As if to answer, Marie smiled that killer smile of hers from the day we met, took my hand, and led me toward the bathroom.

When I turned on the light, I noticed the jacuzzi in the corner next to the shower stall. "That answer your question?" she asked as she ran her hands up and down my chest in a way that clearly said, _Baby, I want to rip your clothes off and fuck your brains out right here and now._

Smiling, I wrapped my arms around her waist and lifted her up off the ground, which wasn't hard to do at all. I'm almost a foot taller and a good hundred pounds heavier than her. After a long, passionate kiss, I set her down and turned on the water, and started unbuttoning my shirt. Marie, on the other hand, had already undressed, and was anxious to get in. And let me tell you, I thought she looked hot when she was dressed!

"I'll be right back," I said after checking the water temperature. She nodded, and I went back into the bedroom to get the bottle of wine and two glasses from the table.

Within a few minutes, we were relaxing in the water with the lights off, the jets turned up full blast, and sipping a glass of Bordeaux.

"This is the life, eh?" Marie smiled as she scooted her naked body next to mine, and wrapped her left arm and right leg around me.

"I'll say," I said softly. "Oh, and guess what? I got approved for my green card just yesterday, so that means I can still work at your dad's inn."

"That's wonderful. You know, Daddy always spoke very highly of you. And I've seen how your kid brother always enjoys his company."

"Oh, yeah," I remembered with a slight laugh. "Pat's never known a stranger in his life. He thinks everybody's his new best friend. I still remember when he first met you guys."

"Oh, and speaking of being able to work, Jacqui told me she got that job in Windsor."

"Really? Awesome!" I grinned. That was great news, especially for Jacqui. You see, she'd been training to be a social worker since she'd graduated from college, and jobs in that line of work aren't easy to find. Over the summer, she'd told me she didn't think she'd ever find one, but I kept telling her not to give up and keep trying, because, hey, you never know.

Marie smiled and nodded. "Here's to new jobs and best friends," she said, rasing her glass.

"And to us," I added, and we gently tapped our glasses together. In that moment, I really couldn't ask for anything more. I felt like the future was truly ours to make whatever we wanted out of it.

Little did I know it, but I would soon find out just exactly how fate had a way of stepping in and doing everything possible to make a huge mess of my life.

_March 1, 1995_

"Steve? Steve, it's time."

That was the first thing I heard when I woke up from being grabbed by the shoulders and shaken like a martini. Yawning and opening my eyes, I turned to Marie.

"It is?" I asked. After she answered with an anxious nod, I asked, "What time is it?"

"How the hell should I know?"

I looked at the alarm clock, and saw that it was a little after 1 a.m. "Okay, just relax, honey," I said. "Everything is under control."

"That's easy for you to say; you're not the one who's got a fucking watermelon trying to bust out of you!" Marie snapped.

Normally after talking to me like that, I would've told Marie to watch her language. But this time, I couldn't think about that. Sure, it was her disease doing the talking, but because she was pregnant, she had to stay off her meds for the baby's sake. And I was well aware that if you're bipolar and not on your meds, all bets are off. But there wasn't time to think about that now. I jumped out of bed, grabbed Marie's suitcase, and threw on the first set of clothes I'd had laid out for me.

"I'm going to call Dr. Devereaux," I called as I raced toward the living room. After all the months we'd spent drilling and preparing for this day, I had our plan down-pat.

Unfortunately, when I picked up the phone, the line was dead. _No, _I thought, fighting the panic that was coming. _No goddamn way. This can't be happening!_

But it was. And guess what I saw when I looked out the window? Nothing but white. We were completely snowed in. Luckily for us, we lived on the second floor of the building, so we didn't have to worry about the snow reaching our front door.

"Okay, don't panic here, Everett," I whispered as I pulled my boots on. "It's going to be all right.. Uncle Adam is a retired EMT, and remember what he always told you: stay calm, because losing your head won't help anyone, especially you."

Then I remembered our neighbors from down the hall, Chris and Zoe Hill. They worked at the same hospital as Dr. Devereaux. He's an intern in obstetrics, and she's a maternity nurse. They could help.

"I'll be right back, Marie!" I called as I dashed out the door and down the hall. I was at their front door in five seconds flat, and started banging and yelling like a lunatic. If Chris hadn't answered the door, I would've knocked it off its hinges and barged right in.

"Marie's in labor," I panted as Chris opened the door.

"Did you call the doctor?" he asked.

"Can't. The line's dead."

"Yup, that's those Canadian winters for you," he said. "Okay, I'll wake Zoe and get my bag, and we'll be there in two minutes, tops."

Nodding, I hurried back to my apartment just in time to hear Marie shriek at the top of her lungs, "I DON'T BELIEVE THIS SHIT! MY WATER JUST BROKE, AND YOU'RE OUT TAKING DONATIONS FOR THE GODDAMN MARCH OF DIMES!"

"I just woke up Chris and Zoe, they're on their way," I said as I quickly put on a pot of water to boil. And no, I wasn't making coffee or tea. Chris and Zoe had already arrived by then, so I was calm. Now, it was Marie's turn to fall apart. I'll bet the neighbors were loving this!

"Where is she, Steve?" Zoe asked.

"The bedroom," I answered as I followed them in. And to no one's surprise, the bed was sopping wet. I helped Chris move Marie to the floor.

"Steve, get something for her to focus on," he ordered as he put on his stethoscope. I looked around and saw the four-generations picture on the wall, which was taken my first Fourth of July. In it were my Great-Grandma Russo, who died about a month after our trip to Cincinnati, Gamma, Dad, and me sitting on Gamma's lap. I grabbed it and held it up in front of Marie.

"Here," I said soothingly.

"Uh, Steve? It's upside-down."

I looked, and sure enough, it was. "Oh," I said, and turned it the right way.

It was exhausting and not at all fun, but finally, _finally, _Bebe JoAnna Everett came into our lives at 6:58 a.m. Marie and I were the happiest people in the world, thinking this day would never come. You see, she'd had two miscarriages: one in January of '91; one in December of '93; and in August of '92, a stillbirth that had been a boy we'd named Tony, after Great-Grandfather Russo, who had died when I was four. When Marie became pregnant last summer, Dr. Devereaux said he wanted to check her again to make sure she could successfully carry a child. He ran some tests, and discovered that Marie had an iron deficiency, so he gave her some shots. And thank God, they worked, because Marie had just had Bebe.

"She's beautiful, honey," I whispered as I gave my sobbing wife a kiss on the forehead. "Oh, Marie, you did it."

"You, too," Marie managed to gasp out between sobs. Then, to Zoe, she added, "We all did it. Thanks, you guys, so much."

_"De rien, _Marie," Zoe answered gently as the two of them hugged. Then she turned to Chris and helped him with examining Bebe as Marie started whispering praises in French.

While this was going on, something told me to check the phone again. This time, there was a dial tone, and I called Dr. Devereaux at his house. In case you're wondering, yes, he was home, and yes, he answers his own phone, so he's pretty good.

"Okay," he said after I'd told him the situation. "I'm on my way."

"Thanks," I said, then I called both of my grandmothers. Grandmother Christine, Mom's mother, lives in Southampton, Long Island, New York, and Gamma lives in Old Woodbury, which is where Dad grew up. Both of my grandfathers have long since passed on. Granddad Bruno, Mom's father, died when I was eight, and Grandfather Paul, Dad's father, died just a month after Marie and I were married. He was able to make it to the wedding, even if he had to spend the entire time in a wheelchair and hooked up to an oxygen tank.

"Congratulations, honey," Gamma said. "I'll be sure to let your dad know."

"Thanks, Gamma," I answered. And we hung up.

I walked into the living room and looked out the window in time to see Dr. Devereaux coming down the street on skis, and boy, did I get a kick out of that. I also remembered a story he'd told us about how he'd been training for the 1976 Winter Games, and just before the trials started, he shattered his left knee on a practice run. Thankfully, he could still ski, just not downhill. That was pretty much the end of his career, so he went back to school. Personally, I think he made the right decision.

I buzzed Dr. Devereaux in, and went back to the bedroom to check on Marie and Bebe. Marie was sitting in the armchair next to the window and was nursing the baby. And believe me, she was pretty famished. I guess all that crying worked up an appetite.

_"O Ca-na-da, terre de nos ai-eu-ux," _Marie sang softly. It was so beautiful, although I was a little surprised by what she chose to sing. But to each his own, eh? (Yes, folks, my transition from American to Canadian is officially underway.)

"Hey, Steve, could you help me put some clean sheets on the bed?" Zoe asked. She'd already stripped the bed, and was taking them to the washing machine and started a pot of coffee. After what we'd just been through, Bebe wasn't the only one who was hungry.

"Steve, you did a great job," Dr. Devereaux said as he shook my hand, "and you did the right thing by calling Dr. Hill. It's pretty handy to have an intern living in the building, doesn't it?"

"I'll say," I smiled. "So, how are they?"

"They're doing just fine," he answered. "And Marie just had her medication. As soon as the roads are clear, I want the three of you in my office ASAP. Not just for Bebe's checkup, but also to test her for the bipolar gene."

"Good idea," I agreed. It was hard enough dealing with Marie's sudden and violent mood swings, but I sure as hell didn't want to go through the same thing with Bebe.

Well, as it turned out, Bebe wasn't a carrier of that particular gene, but that didn't mean my problems with Marie were any better.

In fact, they got worse. A lot, LOT worse.


	13. Steve 4

**STEVE 4**

_April, 1995_

Don't get me wrong—Marie was a _great _mother. When she was on her meds, that is.

She also wasn't as crazy as I thought she'd be during her post-partum depression phase, or lack thereof. In fact, her meds made it easier for her to halde it, and I still remember what she said when Dr. Devereaux told us what to expect after Bebe was born. In typical Marie fashion, she looked the doctor dead in the eye and said, "Well, _I'm _not going to."

And she didn't, either. Sure, she had her moments when she felt a little down, but not to the point where she stayed in bed all day, bawling her eyes out. Like I'd said, her meds for her bipolar disorder helped her a hell of a lot, too.

Then there were the times she went off them. When that happened, she wouldn't get out of bed, or went into a crying fit after the simplest request. Her manic stages were even more unpredictable. I'll never forget the time I came home from work to find Marie trying to get all the wallpaper steamed off the walls so she could have it dry-cleaned. And do you know what she said to me? She said, "Hi, honey. This wallpaper sure is filthy, eh? Oh, and you might want to stay off the balcony for the rest of the day. I just had it painted."

And that was when she was in a good mood. When she wasn't doing crazy shit like that, she'd start yelling and screaming at me for the stupidest reasons: not rinising out the sink after I'd shaved, hanging her clothes in certain areas of the closet where she didn't normally hang them, or asking me to take care of Bebe whenever I was busy with something else. That was when she was at her worst. One day while I was reattaching one of the kitchen cabinets, I heard Bebe crying from the nursery. "Hey, Marie, could you check on the baby?" I called.

"What's wrong with you doing it?" she called back.

"Uh, I'm kind of busy here."

Obviously, that was the wrong thing to say, because the next thing I knew, she'd stormed into the kitchen and knocked the screwdriver out of my hand. _"You're _busy?" she shouted. _"I'm _the one who always ends up feeding her, changing her, and trying to get her to go to sleep! And don't even get me started on how many of my favorite blouses she's spit up on so far!"

"Oh, yeah?" I challenged her. "Well, at least _I'm _going out there and busting my ass just so we don't starve to death! And by the way, how the fuck do you think I pay for those blouses, huh?"

"Oh, sure," she laughed sarcastically. "You do all of the work around here, and I stay at home watching _Sally, _yakking on the phone, and eating my weight in Jujubees. I used to have such a beautiful body, and now, thanks to you, look like the goddamn _Nautilus_!"

"Oh, bullshit!" I snapped. I knew for a fact that not a thing she'd just said was true. Not only does she hate Jujubees, but she still works part-time at the inn. Also, she's a lot of things, but fat is not one of them. "Look, if you want her to stop crying so bad, I'll deal with it!"

And that's how it usually went. Bebe starts crying, Marie expects me to drop everything and take care of her, we get into a fight, and I end up having to calm my daughter, while trying to keep my wife from going off the deep end. It soon got to the point where I'd have to resort to slipping her meds into her food just so she'd act normal.

The only times she'd take them and make an effort to control herself were when we were going out somewhere, and when our families came to visit. Or even when we were visiting my family on Long Island.

In fact, we went to Long Island for Easter. We left Toronto on the morning of Good Friday, and arrived at Mom and Dad's house that evening. Dee Dee and her husband, Alan Croft, had come over from West Orange, New Jersey, with their son, Kyle, who was born around the same time Bebe was. Michael had even invited his fiancée, Katrina West, to join us. Amanda was home from NYU, where she was majoring in Psychology, because she planned to teach elementary school. Jacob was now seventeen and a junior in high school, not to mention the president of his class. The twins were now fourteen and in eighth grade.

The entire time, Marie was herself. Not once did she blow up, cry over the littlest things, or go out and do something crazy. She even helped Alan and Dee Dee with Kyle, and let them help with Bebe. For example, Marie and I would watch Kyle while his parents got something to eat, and vice versa. My family loved Marie, especially Katrina, even though she wasn't technically part of the family yet. "Hey, Steve, guess what?" she said after we got home from church on Easter Sunday. "Marie said I could borrow her wedding dress!"

"Really? That's great," I smiled. "I'm sure it'll fit."

"Oh, absolutely. I'm taller than her, but we're pretty much the same size, so it'll be okay."

"Hey, you know what we should do?" Marie said suddenly. "Remember that picture you had me focus on when I was in labor?"

"Oh, you mean the four-generations one?" I asked.

"Yeah! We should take one of our own! You know, with your Gamma, your folks, Dee Dee and Alan, us, and the babies. Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Sure, why not? I'll go round everybody up, and ask Michael to get his camera."

A few minutes later, we were all in the living room. Gamma sat right in the middle of the couch. Mom and Dad sat on both sides of her, each with a baby on their laps, and Dee Dee, Alan, Marie, and I sat on the floor in front of them. "Okay, everybody, look up here at us," Michael instructed. He wasn't the only one who wanted to take a picture. Jacob, being on the yearbook staff at his school, had his camera, and Katrina and Paula had theirs as well. As soon as we all got posed just right, they all started snapping away.

Now, I'm sure that those of you who have babies that are less than a year old know that they react differently to cameras. Either they enjoy it and want more, or they scream, cry, and wish they could turn into Sean Penn and beat the shit out of you. Kyle was a little surprised to see the flashing, but poor Bebe just freaked out. She instantly started shrieking at the top of her lungs, and wasn't stopping for anyone. (Fortunately, as she got older, she'd come to love having her picture taken, and she also never met a mirror she didn't like.)

I guess Mom knew what to do, because after the picture-taking was over—not only the four-generations one, but Katrina also took a picture of the whole family—Mom took Bebe from Marie, sat in the rocker, and started gently rocking her. "It's all right, _nipote," _she whispered in Bebe's ear. Then she started singing, very softly, _"Que—sta el a sto-ri-a-a, del-la mos-ca mora-a, chi sta den tro, e chi sta fo-ra-a..."_

I recognized that song right away. It was the song Mom used to sing to us kids when we were little. Whether we'd hurt ourselves playing outside, just woken up from a nightmare, or were throwing up with the flu, we could always expect to hear her singing that to us. I, for one, never found out what the words meant when translated into English, but it always did the job. Not only with us, but also with Bebe, because she finally managed to calm down.

"That was amazing, Rose," Marie said in admiration. "I like to sing to Bebe myself, sometimes 'Alouette'."

"Thanks, Marie," Mom said as she handed the baby back to her.

"You know, all this picture-taking reminds me," Gamma spoke up. "I've got something to show you." She got up from the couch—all the while leaning on the cane she'd been using since she broke her hip last fall—and shuffled over to the hall tree to get it.

"This is a picture of your father when he was four months old," she told me as she sat back down. I looked, and in my grandmother's tan and wrinkled hand was a faded black-and-white photo of a baby sleeping in a little boy's arms. I knew the baby was Dad, but I had no idea who the kid was.

"Who's this?" I asked, pointing to the kid.

"That's Morris Goldberg," she answered with a fond smile. "He and his family lived next door to your grandfather and me."

Goldberg...Goldberg...I knew that name! "Rachel's dad?" I guessed.

"That's right," Gamma said. "He was such a sweet boy, too. And his daughters are just beautiful."

I knew what that meant. She was married to Jon Stevenson. I wanted to go to the wedding, but it ws on the same day as Dee Dee and Alan's.

"That's your dad?" Marie exclaimed. I nodded. "Aww, he's so cute! I can definitely see the resemblance between you guys!"

"Thanks, babe," I grinned, giving Marie a kiss. I kind of expected Dad to walk by and thank her as well, but he had his hands full with Kyle.

It was such a wonderful Easter, and I was always so glad to see my beloved Gamma. With her around, things were always so much better.

None of us could've suspected that this would be her last Easter with us.

_June, 1995_

The church was jam-packed by the time we'd arrived. After Marie and I had found a place to park, we headed up the steps and into the vestibule to sign the guestbook. And I can quite honestly say that there wasn't a dry eye in sight. No, it wasn't Michael and Katrina's wedding. It was actually Gamma's funeral. Just last week, she'd suffered a heart attack and died in her sleep. The sun was rising, according to Dad, and in his mind, it was Grandfather Paul coming down from heaven to tell her it was time to go.

On our way to our seats, we met Jon and Rachel. "I'm so sorry, man," Jon said as we hugged. "We know how much she meant to you guys."

"Thanks," I said. "How are the girls?"

"They're fine," Rachel answered, digging a packet of tissues out of her purse and handing us a couple. "They're with Jon's folks."

I nodded as she and I hugged. Marie, meanwhile, was sobbing her heart out. I could tell she really loved Gamma.

Just before we took our seats, I noticed Gamma's casket was open. "I'll be with you guys in a minute," I told my family. They nodded, cried, and hugged each other as I made my way down the aisle. There, lying in that brass and oak casket with white lining was Gamma. Her hair was cut and curled above her shoulders, like it's been since I could remember. She also had on a black short-sleeved flower-print dress. As sad as I was, I couldn't help smiling, because I was thinking about what Aunt Susan told me about that dress. According to her, that was Gamma's summer church dress, and when I was a baby, Gamma would hold me on her lap during church, and I'd try to pick the flowers off her dress. If you ask me, it made perfect sense that she was being buried in that particular dress.

The casket was soon closed, and the service got underway. One of Dad's childhood friends, Father Frank Cangalosi (pronounced "can-juh-LOW-see"), a priest in Maine, gave the eulogy.

After reading from the obituary, he went on, "On this day, we should focus on celebrating the life of our beloved Alice Everett, and the difference she's made in ours, rather than in her passing. As the Bible tells us in First Thessalonians 4:16, 'And the Lord Himself shall descend from Heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and the dead in Christ will rise first.' If there's one thing I know, it's that Alice spent her life having faith in our Lord and Savior, as well as our country. She taught us that even though things may not be perfect in this life, we should always have faith that things will be better for us in what lies beyond." He stopped himself for a second to blink back tears, and finally said, _"Arrevederci, Signora _Everett. Farewell for now, Alice. We'll see you in Paradise."

Then as the mourners got up to leave the church, the pallbearers—Michael, Uncle Adam, Jacob, Scott (Aunt Nancy's son, who's Amanda's age), Alan, and I—came to get the casket and take it to the waiting hearse. Since Alan and I were busy, our wives had their hands full with the babies. I'm just glad Mom and my aunts were there to help.

We arrived at the mausoleum about twenty minutes or so later. "Steve?" Marie whispered to me as we got out of the car. "Did you remember to bring extra diapers?"

"Yes," I answered, trying to hide how annoyed I was for her asking for what seemed like the millionth time. "Remember? We put them in the trunk before we left this morning."

"Okay," Marie said. "I just didn't want her to be without them."

Nodding, I got the stroller out of the trunk and set it up for Marie to put the baby in, then ran off to help the pallbearers take the casket out of the hearse and carry it to the plot. In the back of my mind, I thought, _Of all times for you to bring this up, why the hell did you pick Gamma's funeral?_

The rest of the service continued uneventfully. Father Frank read the 23rd Psalm, and Paula read Gamma's favorite poem, Robert Frost's "Nothing Gold Can Stay". And as I helped slide the casket into the space in the wall, I thought of the last lines of that poem and what it meant. Somehow, I had a gut-feeling that my marriage to Marie was one of the things that couldn't stay gold. But I either couldn't see it, or didn't want to believe it.

Now that I look back on that day, I knew damn well how obvious it was that we were on a downward spiral. But it happened so slowly and subtly that it made what would soon happen all the more painful.

After we left the cemetery, we returned to Gamma's house in Old Woodbury, which was where Dad grew up. I'd just gotten a plate of food and had sat down on the floor next to the recliner. Almost immediately, I felt like I was six years old again, and Grandfather Paul was sitting in that chair and telling us kids one of his many stories about when he was growing up in Minnesota. My grandfather was quite the storyteller, and listening to his Midwestern accent was the best part. As a kid, I always used to think that his voice sounded so cool, because it was totally different from the way we always talked.

I'd just started eating when I saw two women approaching. One of them looked like she was in her mid-60s, and was wearing a black dress suit. The other was a girl who looked around Jacob's age, and was wearing a black sundress with matching sweater. "Hi, Steve," the older woman said as she sat down in the recliner.

"Hi," I answered. "Do I know you?"

"I'm your grandmother's cousin," she answered. "My name's Samantha, but she and her siblings always called me Sam. This is my granddaughter Dominique."

I did some quick math and figured out how they would be related to me. Since Sam was Gamma's cousin, she would be Dad's first cousin once removed, which would make her my first cousin _twice _removed. That meant Sam's children, one of which was Dominique's mother or father, would be Dad's second cousins, which made Dominique my _third _cousin. It all seemed so complicated, but it was still nice meeting them.

"Alice was a good woman," Sam went on. "She was eleven years my senior, and of all my cousins on both sides of my family, she was my favorite. I'll never forget when I was nine, and she taught me how to cook her mother's spinach ziti casserole for my cooking badge when I was in Girl Scouts."

Upon hearing that, I pretty much lost my appetite and set my plate aside.

"She never used frozen or canned spinach, in case you're wondering," Sam laughed. "No, when Alice cooked, she always made everything from scratch."

"Just like Mom," Dominique remembered. "I just wish she was here."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Dominique took a deep breath. It was obvious she was trying not to cry. "I was nine when my parents were killed in a car accident," she explained. "When we went to court, Gram won custody of me. Every chance Alice got, she always came down to Annapolis to visit. She was wonderful to us."

"And after Dominique graduates from high school, she'll be going to culinary school in Baltimore," Sam added.

"That's great, you guys," I said, and I had to smile after hearing that. "I'm sure Gamma would be proud of you, Dominique."

"Thanks, Steve," Dominique whispered, her voice breaking.

Even though I'd never met Dominique until today, I was still so proud of her. I also knew that Gamma would be happy that this young girl would be following her dream. And you know what? Meeting this woman and her beautiful granddaughter made today a little easier to deal with.

I looked up at the picture of Gamma that was hanigng on the wall, and grinned. _Good job, Gamma, _I thought. _I know you'll be watching over us._

And just a few months later, I'd definitely need her to be watching.


	14. Steve 5

**STEVE 5**

_September, 1995_

I knew it was going to happen. Deep down, I always knew it would. Ever since I first learned that Marie was bipolar—and no, I didn't hear it from her—I was waiting for something to go down. It was like a doctor telling you that you or someone you loved had some terminal illness, and only had so much time left. The only difference was, instead of getting that news, I was waiting for Marie to go so fucking crazy that she actually hurt herself or someone else.

Well, I'm happy to say that she didn't go that far, but it was still pretty ugly.

It was raining pretty hard outside, and Marie and I were running around like a couple of headless chickens, trying to get the apartment cleaned up. You see, Jacqui and her husband Kevin were coming over for dinner. We were celebrating the promotion Jacqui had gotten. She'd been a social worker since I'd married Marie, and after five years of hard work, it had finally paid off.

"Hey, Steve!" I heard Marie call from the bedroom.

_Oh, shit, _I thought in dread. _Here we go again. _I knew what was coming next: Marie jumping down my throat again. I still remembered when I'd asked her to check on Bebe, and the fit she'd thrown about it, and that was the last thing I wanted to deal with.

"Yeah?" I answered, bracing myself for the explosion.

"Have you seen my pin anywhere?"

"Which one?" I asked as I gave the marinara sauce a quick stir.

"You know, the one that looks like the flag? You gave it to me for Christmas last year."

"Did you check the jewelry box on the dresser?"

"No, I'll look."

As soon as I was sure she was busy looking, I slipped into the bathroom, got a couple of her pills, and slipped them into my pocket. I know you may think I was being an asshole for doing this, but you know what? You try living with someone who's mentally unstable and not taking their meds, and then you can tell me I'm wrong.

I'd just turned around to go to the kitchen, and just my luck, there was Marie standing in the doorway. She knew what I was doing. I knew that she knew. And if you don't think she saw the whole thing, you're an idiot.

"Find it?" I asked, trying my best to act like nothing happened.

"Yup, you were right," she answered. "It was in the box the whole time."

That's when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," she said, and went to open the door. As I went back to the kitchen, I knew I'd dodged a major bullet.

Within minutes, the four of us were sitting in the living room, basically catching up on each other's lives. I told you a little about Jacqui, so I'll tell you about Kevin. He's a few inches taller than me, not as muscular, and he's also a full-blooded Cherokee. His Indian name is Grey Fox, both of which are last names. So when Jacqui married him, her last name could be either one. (She chose Grey.) Anyway, he'd grown up on a reservation down in Oregon, and moved to Canada sometime after he'd graduated from high school. Like Jacqui, he's also a social worker, and he takes his job very seriously. If there's any two people in the world who'd make great social workers, it's Jacqui and Kevin.

"So, Steve, how are things going at the inn?" Kevin asked as he took a drink of his cherry seltzer.

"Oh, great," I said. "JP's a great guy to work for. Oh, you guys want to hear a true story?"

"Sure."

"Okay. I'd just finished fixing a leaky pipe in the kitchen and was on my way to one of the vending machines to get a bottle of water, and guess who I saw checking in at the front desk?"

"Who?" Jacqui asked.

"Christine McGlade," I grinned. "You know, from _You Can't Do That On Television."_

Jacqui thought for a minute. "Oh, is she the one they called Moose?"

"Yup, that's the one. Anyway, she got her key and was heading for the elevator, and what do you know? It's out of order. So I went up and offered to carry her suitcase for her, because let me tell you, that son of a bitch looked _heavy."_

"And she let you?" Marie asked.

"Uh-huh," I nodded proudly. "And no, I didn't ask her why they called her Moose, because I didn't want her to smack me."

"She didn't say 'I didn't know' and get slimed, did she?" Kevin laughed, which got the rest of us started.

"Well, I'm going to turn off the stove. I think dinner's ready," I said as soon as we'd calmed down. Setting down my wine, I got up and headed into the kitchen. No sooner had I turned off the stove and finished draining the rotini into the sink did I feel someone grab me by the shoulder and spin me around. That's when I found myself face-to-face with a very pissed-off Marie. Before I could open my mouth, she grabbed me by the lapels of my shirt and slammed me back-first against the wall. That was shocking enough, but the fact that a woman half my size could actually do that and not even break a sweat was almost impossible to believe.

"I know just exactly what you've been doing, you asshole," she hissed at me, her face right against mine and her hands pinned against my chest.

"Okay, what's the problem?" I managed to ask, once I'd gotten over my disbelief.

"You know damn well what the problem is," she accused me. "And did you think I wouldn't figure it out? I've seen you. I've seen you sneak those pills into my food. I knew you were trying to keep me under your thumb and not let me have a life of my own. I could taste those goddamn pills every time. What do you think I am, a fucking idiot? Did you really think you could fool me? DID YOU!"

I knew it was her disease doing the talking. That's what I've always told myslef: "She doesn't mean it, it's her bipolar disorder, she's not herself, and blah-blah-blah." But not this time. This time, I'd finally had enough of her bullshit.

"All right, you know what, Marie?" I fired back, trying to keep my voice down so Kevin and Jacqui wouldn't hear us, and also so we wouldn't wake Bebe. In retrospect, though, I figured they could, as small as the apartment is. "Just stop it! All right, just shut the hell up! I only did it to keep you safe! You know how you are when you don't take your meds! And don't think I haven't forgotten how you were when you were expecting Bebe!"

Obviously, that was the wrong thing to say, because at that, Marie's eyes narrowed, and her lips curled in fury. "Don't you _dare_ bring that little boaby into this!" she snarled. "It was because of her that I had to stop taking them in the first place, and you know that."

I should've just apologized for not being honest with her about the whole thing. I shouldn't have mentioned our child. I should've just kept my mouth shut and walked away. Like Dad always told me, it takes a bigger man to just walk away. But did I do any of those things?

You bet your ass I didn't.

"Oh, I see," I said. "So what you're saying is, it's Bebe's fault you're totally whacked out of your mind?"

That did it. The instant I said those words, Marie went fucking postal. I mean _completely. _Eyes blazing, her face beet red, and her tiny frame shaking from head to toe, she drew back her fist and slugged me right across the jaw. I stumbled against a chair and she was on me in an instant, pulling my hair, scratching my chest and arms, and screaming her head off. In French, I might add. It was like she'd forgotten her English, as well as a lot of other things.

Something inside me ripped loose. Still holding onto her wrists, I planted my foot against her stomach and shoved her across the kitchen. And then, it was on. We were both screaming in each other's faces, both of us bringing up the other's weak points, insulting each other's families, and trying with everything we had not to wring each other's necks.

Marie had just raised her arm to try to hit me again when out of nowhere, Kevin grabbed her, pinned her arms to her sides, and wrapped her in a bear-hug from behind. She kicked, struggled, and cursed with everything she had, but Kevin—all 6' 10" of him—wasn't about to let her go. It was like watching a stressed-out parent try in vain to gain control of their screaming little bastard of a kid in the middle of any store for all the world to see.

"Stop it!" he shouted. "Marie, stop it right now!" He might as well have been talking to himself, because once Marie gets started, she doesn't stop for anyone. And needless to say, the noise had woken Bebe and gotten her started.

That was the last thing Marie wanted to deal with. Still screaming, she leaned forward, and with all her strength, slammed the back of her head against Kevin's chin. The third time, she got him right in the mouth, which got him to release her as they both sank to the floor. Then she ran out of the kitchen, and before I could check to see how badly Kevin was hurt, I heard a huge crash from the living room. When I ran to investigate, I just gasped. The window was smashed, enough so that it was raining inside. Marie had just jumped out the second-story window, and by some miracle, managed to land feet-first on the sidewalk. The last thing I saw was her running across the street, barely avoiding getting hit by a car, not once, but three times. That's right, folks, _three times! _If Marie doesn't have nine lives, I don't know who does.

And where was Jacqui during all this? Sitting on the couch with her head in her hands. I could tell she'd been through this many times before. I mean, how would you feel if you were Jacqui? What would you be thinking if that was your little sister who was out of control? _No wonder she was so embarrassed when we saw that movie, _I thought.

I'd just gotten Kevin an ice-pack from the freezer and led him to the armchiar. "I'm sorry, you guys," I said as I tried to comfort Bebe. "I knew she had problems, but I never imagined she'd go this far."

"Jacqui, we should call the police," Kevin spoke up. "Marie could hurt herself."

"Or we could wait for Little Bo Peep's sheep to come home and turn them into lamb chops," Jacqui sharply muttered, not looking at either of us.

"That's your sister out there," Kevin said firmly. That's when Jacqui looked up, and belive me, the look on her face said it all.

"You know what? Do whatever you want," she spat. "I don't give a damn anymore." She got up from the couch and stormed out of the apartment in disgust, slamming the door behind her.

"Kevin..." I startred to say.

"It's not your fault, Steve," he interrupted. "Look, uh, why don't we do this some other time? It's not you, it's her disease."

I nodded. There was nothing I could say. After shaking my hand and apologizing again, he left. It wasn't his fault. He had his own wife to worry about, like I did.

After putting Bebe back in her crib, I really had my work cut out for me: nailing a piece of wood over the window, putting the food in Tupperware and putting it in the fridge, and calling first the landlord, then the cops. And explaining everything to the neighbors, never mind wondering where the hell Marie was and praying to God that she was okay, was no picnic, either. After tonight, I thought for sure I'd seen everything.

Yeah, right.

I didn't have to work the next day, so I was pretty much on my own. One of the things I usually did on my day off was volunteer at the youth center. And after that train wreck of a visit from the night before, I was glad to have something to do, anything to get my mind off things. So, after dropping Bebe off at JP's, I drove downtown to the center.

The only good thing about last night was getting a call from the cops, saying that Marie was okay. They'd found her wandering around the park, and taken her to the hospital's psychiatric ward for a 72-hour hold. I was so glad she was safe, but at the same time, I was still pissed at her.

"Okay, Richie, just stay focused on the ball," I was saying. One of the kids at the center, twelve-year-old Richie, was getting a lesson in playing pool. He's almost blind in his left eye, so it's a little hard for him to see what he's doing. But he always does his best to try new things. And as soon as I'd said that, he sent the cue ball shooting across the table. It clacked against the yellow striped ball. It didn't go anywhere near the pocket, but this time, he didn't send it on the floor.

"Wow, did you see that, Steve?" he exclaimed happily. "It didn't even land on the floor or nothin'!"

"I sure did," I agreed. "And who knows? Maybe someday you'll be in one of those pool tournaments on TV."

"Sounds great, but let me finish sixth grade first," he laughed.

Just then, the front door flew open, and in rushed one of the staff members, Mr. Wilson. He's about my height and Dad's age, with blue eyes, gray, thinning hair, and horn-rimmed glasses. The one thing people always notice about him is that his ring and little fingers on his left hand don't lay flat. He told me that he'd been in a hunting accident his senior year of high school, but he was still able to participate in graduation. I still remember when he'd told me that story, and the one thing he said was how lucky he considers himself to be right-handed.

"Help!" he shouted. "Somebody help!"

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Steve? Thank God I found you! There's a young woman out on the ledge! Says she's going to jump!"

"What?" I exclaimed. "Where is she? What building?"

"The bank on the corner! She's on the sixth floor!"

Almost immediately, my first thought was that Marie had somehow escaped from the hospital. "Oh, sweet Jesus," I murmured, forgetting how angry I was at her. I could already picture the whole thing: my wife standing on that ledge, crying her eyes out, and feeling guilty over last night. That was bad enough, but knowing that her illness was part of it must have felt horrible for her.

"She told me to find you," Mr. Wilson continued, fighting the panic in his voice. But I knew he was two seconds away from coming unglued.

"Stay here and keep an eye on the kids. And call the cops," I instructed as I grabbed my jacket from the coat rack.

"What about me?" Richie called after me.

"Try to keep the little ones distracted!" I yelled over my shoulder. And I was out the door in no time flat.

Within minutes, I'd run into the bank lobby and was charging up the stairs like a runaway truck. When I got to the sixth floor, I ran into one of the security guards. "This way," she said, motioning me toward an office door that was standing wide open. "The police are on their way."

Nodding, I rushed in and found a bunch of people crowded around the window. "Excuse me, folks," I said as I pushed my way through and got to the window. When I stuck my head out, I couldn't believe who was standing out there.

_"Jacqui?" _

Yes, it was Jacqui. Eyes downcast and left hand gripping the fire escape, she was standing there with her back planted against the brick wall. This didn't make any sense to me. Why the hell wasn't Marie the one who was out there? Why was Jacqui doing this? A million thoughts were racing through my head, probably faster than the ones going through hers.

As soon as she heard my voice, she turned her head toward me. I could tell she'd been crying. "Don't come any closer, Steve, or I'm gone," she warned. Aned you didn't need a PhD to know that she meant it.

"Jacqui, what the hell are you doing?" I asked in total disbelief.

"I'll bet you expected to find Marie out here, huh?"

"Well—yeah, kind of."

"Oh, yes, Marie. Self-assured, feisty, confident Marie, who can't even stay on her fucking meds," Jacqui grumbled. "My own sister, who, upon my visiting her at the hospital to bring her some clothes, says she wishes she didn't have a sister, and told me to go jump off a cliff. Well, Kevin has the car, and it's too far to the mountains, but this should do."

"Now wait a minute, she didn't mean that."

"Oh, yes, she did," Jacqui insisted. "When you've lived with someone like Marie your whole life, you can tell what she does mean and what she doesn't. Well, don't even think about giving me that 'it-was-her-disease-doing-the-talking' bullshit, because I've heard it all before."

I was just about to reach out my hand to her when she barged on, "And don't try to talk me into coming back inside, either!"

I felt a tap on my shoulder, and when I turned around, I found one of the bank employees. "Anything I can do?" she asked.

"Call her husband," I whispered urgently. "His name's Kevin Gray Fox, and their number is 555-7290." She nodded and dashed out into the hall.

"Look, Jacqui, you don't want to do this," I said as I turned back to her. "I know how hard this is for you. I've had some pretty tough times in my life, too. But nothing is worth ending your life over."

"Oh, yeah? Well, what if I told you I had a perfectly good reason?"

"What?"

"I'm pregnant."

For a moment, I couldn't even speak. As if Jacqui wanting to end her life wasn't serious enough. But now she was wanting to end her own _and _her unborn baby's life? I just couldn't believe it.

"I was going to tell you at dinner last night," she went on. "But due to circumstances beyond _somebody's _control, I never got the chance to."

"Then—well, isn't that good news?" I wanted to know. Surely, if she was going to be a mother, shouldn't that change her mind?

"I thought so, too, at first," Jacqui admitted. "But then, I made the mistake of telling the doctor about my family's medical history, and wouldn't you know it? My baby has a 50-50 chance of being born with this disease. Well, that's what we were told."

"But what if your baby _isn't _born with it?" I pressed. "I mean, we had Bebe tested soon after she was born, and she's not a carrier; but just because Marie has it doesn't mean your baby will."

"Well, good for it," Jacqui snapped. "At least now I'll be saving us a lot of trouble."

I looked down to the street below, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bluish-gray pickup parking by the library a block away. Kevin climbed out and followed one of the cops toward the bank. Thank God. Oh, thank God. Of all people to come now, it was Kevin.

"Look, Jacqui, I know I can't tell you how to live your life..."

"Damn right, you can't," she interrupted. "Now, can you just give me some dignity, go back inside, and let me do what I have to do?"

The next thing I heard was the office door opening. When I turned around, Kevin and the cop had just rushed in. "Oh, Officer, thank God you're here," I said breathlessly and softly enough, so Jacqui wouldn't hear me. The last thing I wanted was for her to find out that a cop was in the office with me, and jump, no matter what.

"I'm Officer Chambers. Is she okay?" the cop asked.

"Yeah, she's still out there on the ledge," I answered. "I've been talking to her all this time. I think she might listen to one of you."

"Would it be all right if I gave it a try?" Kevin asked.

"It might," Officer Chambers answered, and then motioned for me to go out into the hall.

The next few minutes seemed to drag on forever. I felt so helpless, just standing there and doing nothing. What I wanted to do was run over to the hospital and yell at Marie for causing all this trouble, illness or not. But I knew I couldn't. For one thing, I had to stay put in case Jacqui wanted to talk to me again. Plus, I doubted if Marie would've given a shit about any of this.

"Okay, just watch your step now, Mrs. Grey," I heard the cop saying. And let me tell you, I damn near jumped out of my skin when I heard those wonderful words. Rushing back into the office, I saw Kevin and Officer Chambers carefully helping Jacqui back inside through the window. I couldn't begin to tell you how relieved I was that she didn't go through with it.

"Thank you, Steve," she whispered, her voice breaking. Ahd she gave both Kevin and me a hug.

"I'll be okay, Jacqui," I said.

As the three of them walked out of the office, I sat down on a chair to catch my breath and try to compose myself. This had been the most nerve-wracking experience of my life. I mean, I'd just saved my sister-in-law's life, as well as my unborn niece or nephew. Even what I'd gone through at the Who concert was a picnic compared to this. True, nobody died today, but at any rate, it sure took a hell of a lot out of me. I was just glad Bebe was with JP and Meg, and didn't know what was going on.

And that's when it hit me. Last night when Marie was going crazy, what if I wasn't the one she'd been taking it out on? What if it was Bebe? Whether Marie meant to or not, what if she'd hurt our child? If, God forbid, she'd ever—and I mean, _ever—_laid a hand on that innocent baby, I'd never forgive myself.

It was then that I knew what I needed to do. It was going to hurt like hell, but at the end of the day, it was the right thing to do. It didn't even occur to me that I'd be the first one in my family to be going through this. Mom and Dad were still married, as were Dee Dee and Michael, aunts, uncles, and a few cousins. Even my grandparents—both sets, mind you—stayed married until the very end. What irony, huh?

After leaving the bank, I went to the courthouse to get the divorce papers. I know you think I should've been crying, but by this point, I was too numb to feel anything. It was like I'd stepped out of my body and was watching myself do all these things from a distance.

Then I went back to the apartment to fill out the papers and pack a couple of suitcases, one for me and one for Bebe. And all the while, I was on the phone with JP, explaining the whole situation. If there's one conversation I wish I could forget, that would definitely be it.

"Are you okay, son?" the asked. I could tell by his tone of voice that he was upset, but not at all surprised.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I answered as I laid the papers on the coffee table. "Also, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I'm afraid I can't work at the inn anymore. I have to go someplace where Bebe can be safe."

I thought for sure that after I'd told JP that I was quitting, he'd call me an ungrateful son of a bitch and hang up on me. But to my surprise, he didn't. "I understand," he said. "I'll really miss seeing you around, but I know why you're doing this. Because your daughter's safety comes first, and God bless you for doing what you're doing."

"Thanks, JP."

_"Je vous en prie," _he answered. "So, do you know where you're going?"

"Back to Long Island," I said. "I'd feel a lot better knowing Bebe will live somewhere that has her family."

"Okay. She's just waking up from her nap, so I'll have Meg get her ready. You can stop by the house, and I'll get your paycheck."

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Okay. _A tout a l'heure." _And we hung up.

I'd just put my jacket on and was packing the spare diaper bag when the phone rang. And guess who it was?

"Steve, I'm so sorry," Marie sobbed. Or at least that's what it sounded like she said. She was crying so hard that I couldn't understand her. It didn't even sound like her. At any rate, though, she was the last person I really wanted to talk to.

I don't remember our conversation, or how long we talked, but I do know that I was still upset with her about everything, and made no bones about it. I told her about what had happened with Jacqui and how it took both me and Kevin to talk her out of killing herself; about the awful things she said to her sister when she came to visit her at the hospital; and how since the day we'd met, we'd been nothing but nice to her and given her all our support, love, and understanding. But all that time, when she wasn't swearing up and down that things would be different and begging me to give her another chance, she just kept making one excuse after another.

Finally, there was nothing else I could say. "You know what, this is not my problem anymore," I told her. "I can't fix it. You started this whole thing, and now you want me to clean up your mess?"

"Steve..."

"I'm done." And I was, too. I couldn't do this anymore. The way I saw it, I had two choices: either stay, age very quickly and die of stress; or, as heartbreaking as I knew it would be, leave Marie and not have her in my life, or be part of her problems anymore. I'm ashamed to admit that it was the hardest decision I'd ever made in my life, but ultimately, I went with the latter.

On the way to pick up Bebe, I began to wonder what Marie must have been thinking after I hung up the phone. I even began to ask myself if this was such a good idea anymore, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that in the long run, it was better for all of us if we divorced.

As I drove across the border, with Bebe fast asleep in the backseat, I felt the weight of the entire world being lifted off my shoulders.

_December, 1995_

The actual proceedings were nowhere near as messy as I thought they'd be. I agreed to leave everything—the apartment, the lease, the furniture, you name it—to Marie, and due to her history of mental problems, she let me have full custody of Bebe. It still amazes me to this day that she didn't promise to make the rest of my life a living hell.

"You did the right thing, son," Mom told me as I helped her put away the last of the dishes. "Don't get me wrong, we all liked Marie. But staying with her wouldn't have done you or Bebe any good."

"I know, Mom," I said. "I—I just can't believe it's over. I thought we'd be together forever."

"I know it hurts, Steve," Mom said as she put her arms around me. "But Marie had a lot of problems. You knew that when you married her. And she needed more help than you could give her. Do you see what I'm getting at here?"

"Yeah, I do, Mom," I said. "I totally understand. But I didn't think it would come to this."

"None of us did. But you know what? You kids got married for a reason, and you got divorced for a reason. And maybe someday, you can put this behind you and try to be friends. But you'll never be together again."

I nodded. Hearing that was so painful, but I knew Mom was right.

"Hey, Steve!" Pat called as he rushed into the kitchen. I could tell he was really excited. "George is coming on!"

I smiled. I knew he was talking about _It's A Wonderful Life, _one of my family's all-time favorite movies. As long as I've known Pat, I've always told him that was the name of the movie, but he always forgets.

"Okay, Pat. I'll be right in."

"Be right in," Pat repeated, smiling that dimpled smile of his. And he was out of the kitchen in a flash.

As we sat in the living room, I kept thinking about everything that had happened in the last three months. And I knew one thing was for sure: the present could be better, and I wasn't ready to think about the future yet. So instead, I thought about the past. I kept replaying conversations over and over again in my head, wishing I'd said or done this instead of that. I was angry at myself for not doing more to keep my marriage together, and angry at Marie for her part in the whole thing. But more than anything else, I was just angry at life. I knew it was all for the best, but it still wasn't fair.

During the scene where George and Uncle Billy were looking for the money, I happened to look over to the corner of the living room, and saw Bebe and Kyle playing together. And you know what? Seeing them made me feel a little better, and it also made me really understand something: you don't have to live this way.

And I didn't. That's what really helped me put things into perspective. _It's not the end of the world, _I thought_. Just because one thing in your life is over doesn't mean this is it for you. The way it looks right now, kiddo, you've got forty or fifty more years, tops. And nobody wants to spend that much time alone. So, who are you going to spend it with?_

Enter Diann.


	15. Steve 6

**STEVE 6**

_March, 1996_

It had been a couple of months since Bebe and I had moved into our own place. When we'd left Canada, Mom and Dad said we could stay with them until we found a place. After a lot of looking—not to mention getting a gander at this quaint, charming little deathtrap that had me wondering if a couple of midgets were moving in—we found a three-bedroom apartment that was half a mile between Old Woodbury and my parents' house. Talk about convenient!

Before too long, it was Bebe's first birthday. Since the apartment only had so much room, the party was at Michael and Katrina's house, which had been Gamma and Grandfather Paul's, right next door to Jon and Rachel Stevenson. Everybody was there: Mom and Dad; Dee Dee, Alan, and Kyle; Alan's parents; Amanda and her boyfriend, Brent O'Donnell, who was studying to be a hypnotherapist; Jacob, Paula, and Pat. Even Jon, Rachel, and their family were there. And best of all, since Kyle's birthday was about a week after Bebe's, we made it a party for both of them.

I was sitting on the couch between Michael and Katrina with Bebe on my lap, and showing them the pictures of the trip we'd taken to Cape Cod the summer I was eight. I'd just pointed out a picture of Michael completely covered with sand. "Ohh, look at you!" Katrina laughed. Like most wives I know, she loves looking at Michael's baby pictures.

"I don't remember that," Michael said.

"Of course not," I said. "You were only a year old. Dee Dee and Cindy were trying to rebuild the sand castle after that one kid ran me over and destroyed the first one. I guess they wanted to see how you would look if you were a real Sandman."

"Oh, okay," Michael laughed. "I'm not too sure, but I think I remember seeing you getting into a fight."

"Yup, that's the kid, all right," I nodded. "After he ran me down, he didn't even bother to stop and see if I was okay, or even apologize."

"Must have been a real dick, huh?"

"With a capital D."

Just then, Pat called out, "Cake time!"

Picking up our babies and heading into the dining room, Dee Dee and I placed them in their respective high chairs as Mom and Dad appeared in the doorway, each olding a tiny cake. Bebe's cake had white frosting with a maple leaf drawn in red icing right in the center, and Kyle's had blue frosting with a baseball and bat in the center drawn in white icing. The little cakes also had each baby's name on it. In the center of the table was a bigger cake that had a picture of Elmo in the center, and in green icing, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KYLE AND BEBE".

As we finished singing "Happy Birthday", Alan, Jacob, Paula, and I grabbed our cameras, because we knew what was going to happen as soon as Mom and Dad set the cakes down. Sure enough, as soon as the cake was placed in front of Bebe, and Mom blew out the candle nad took it out, she smashed her little fist into it while we took pictures. To no one's surprise, Kyle did the same thing when we took his. And you should've seen the mess they made.

Time to step in and clean them up? Nope.

That's when Kyle got the brilliant idea to take a tiny handful of cake and hurl it at a squealing Bebe. She followed suit, and before you could say "Ditto", we had a full-on cake fight on our hands. By the time it was over, our babies looked like two pint-sized Pilsbury Doughboys covered in spray paint.

"You guys, that cake's not for wearing!" Abby exclaimed. "But as long as I'm here..." And with that, she reached up to Bebe's forehead and helped herself to a handful of cake, which sent Anna into a giggling fit. Jon also got a bit of a laugh. Rachel, however, just shook her head, and while muttering in Yiddish, took the girls by the hand and led them away from the chance to ruin their dresses.

"Well, time to clean up the troops!" Alan laughed as we took the babies out of their high chairs.

"I'll say," I agreed. "On the upside, we'll be getting dessert on the run."

"As long as it doesn't end up on us," Alan said as we took them into the bathroom to get them cleaned up, which was also a chore. Ever try bathing, and then dressing, a wiggly one-year-old baby? Or two of them, for that matter? Well, I'm here to tell you that it can't be done. Why, you ask? Simple. At that age, they hate not only baths, but also clothes. And if they could talk, the first thing they'd say after seeing said clothes was, "Not on my watch, asshole." And off they'd run, laughing, shrieking, and enjoying every second of clothes-free fun.

Which is exactly what Bebe and Kyle did. Actually, since they'd just turned a year old, they crawled more than they ran.

Other than that, a great party.

"Bebe? Bebe, wake up, honey," I whispered the next morning. "We're getting your pictures taken today."

Bebe was only half-awake when I carried her over to the changing table to get her cleaned up and ready. Hanging on the wall beside me was a blue frilly Easter dress that Paula had gotten for her. After changing her diaper, I put it on her, brushed her hair out of her face, and held it in place with a blue ribbon. That was the easy part. The shoes, not so much, because they were her Mary Janes. No, they fit her, but she wouldn't hold her foot still long enough for me to put them on her. She even managed to kick me in the middle of my chest. Accidentally, of course, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch.

That was when I put my hands on Bebe's shoulders and looked her dead in the eye. "Listen to me, 'cause I'm only going to say this once," I said, as calmly as I could manage. "You are going to hold still right now and let me put these goddamn shoes on you, or you and I are going to have a very serious problem. _Capisce?"_

Even though Bebe didn't understand what I was saying, she obviously got the message, because after that, she sat perfectly still and let me put her shoes on.

After a quick breakfast, we were out the door.

The Portrait Studio at Wal-Mart was just opening when we arrived. Normally, I hate going to Wal-Mart, because I always get stuck with a parking space at the far end of the lot, and after that comes the walking in the blazing sun, pouring rain, or freezing cold, and praying that I don't get hit by some idiot who has no business being behind the wheel. This time, not only did I find a space near the entrance and next to the carts, but people were actually watching where they were going. "Somebody up there must really like us today, huh, kiddo?" I grinned as I put Bebe in the cart.

I knew that was the case when I saw just how short the line was. There was an elderly couple in line ahead of me, but that was pretty much it. I hurried to get my spot as they entered the studio. Just as I lifted Bebe out of the cart, I heard a voice behind me ask, "Are you next?"

I turned around. Standing in front of me was an absolutely _gorgeous_ redhead with green eyes, and she was wearing a white button-down shirt, light blue jeans, and sneakers. With her was a little boy that I figured was her son, and he couldn't have been more than five years old. He had jet-black hair, green eyes, and pale skin, like his mother, and was dressed like a little Amish boy, despite the fact that he looked EXACTLY like the kid from _The Omen. _And you know what? Until I saw those two, I never thought it was possible for anyone to be that cute.

"Yes," I answered. I was trying to sound casual, but inside, I was already head-over-heels for this woman, whoever she was. "We're here to have my daughter's one-year pictures taken."

"Really? My son and I moved here from Scotland about a year ago, and his relatives there don't have a recent picture of him."

"Scotland, huh? I was just trying to figure out the accent there. No offense."

"None taken," she smiled. I could tell she'd probably heard that line a million times before. And I thought I had a heavy accent, but hers was even more noticeable than mine. Not even Marie's was that obvious.

"Oh, by the way, I'm Steve Everett, and this is my daughter, Bebe."

"Diann Crowe," she said as we shook hands. "This is my son, Jason."

"Hi," I said as I knelt down to Jason's level. He backed away a little, while clinging to Diann's hand with both of his. After a few seconds, he took one hand away and held up all five fingers, telling me he was five years old. It wasn't the same as actually speaking to me, but it was better than nothing.

"Bebe here just turned a year old yesterday," I told Diann as I stood back up.

"Oh, she's just darling," she said lovingly. "I remember when Jason was that age."

"Next!" a voice called.

"Well, it's our turn, but maybe I'll see you when we're done," I said. Diann nodded, and I turned around and we headed into the studio.

The photographer was a pretty Asian woman, probably around Michael or Amanda's age, and her name tag read "Ashley". She was wearing a light blue blouse, khakis, and brown penny loafers, and had five earrings in each ear: three on her actual earlobe, and two on the very top of her ear, and dark red streaks in her hair.

"Hi, sweetie," she gushed when she saw Bebe. "Ready to take some pretty pictures?"

That was all it took for the smile to leave my baby's face, not to mention seeing the lights and the camera. _No, _I thought in dread. _Dear, sweet, merciful God in heaven, not now. Anywhere else but here._

What happened next? You guessed it, folks: the screaming. And this poor photographer never even got a chance to take the picture yet.

"Why me?" I muttered, shaking my head and looking at the floor.

"I have just the thing that'll help," Ashley said, somehow being able to make herself heard over Bebe. And _that's _saying something.

In less than a minute, she returned with a 12-inch Tommy Pickles doll. You know, the lead character from _Rugrats. _I honestly didn't think it would work at all, but as soon as Bebe noticed that talking baby, she instantly stopped screaming and had had a smile on her face that would put Miss America herself to shame.

"That's the way!" Ashley said gently as I put Bebe on the table. "Just look at Tommy, sweetie. And guess what? Tommy was just telling me that if you smile, he'll let you go on one of his adventures with Chuckie, Phil, Lil, and Spie. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Man, you should've heard that child giggle when Ashley said that. And once Bebe starts giggling, she doesn't stop for anybody. Long story short, from that point on, she was never afraid of the camera again.

After we were done, I carried Bebe out of the studio, where Diann and Jason were waiting. "Your turn," I said, and they went in.

That's when I noticed Bebe starting to fuss and rub her eyes. I could tell she was getting tired, and the last thing I needed was a full-on meltdown right in the middle of the store. Then I remembered the lullaby Mom always sang to us when we were little. I sat on a nearby bench and, gently rocking Bebe in my arms, started singing very softly in her ear. I'm sure I got many strange looks from other customers as they passed by, and I'm also sure it was quite a sight: a big, muscular guy in a Jets jersey singing his baby girl to sleep. The only ones who weren't looking at me like I'd lost my mind were the housewives, expectant mothers, and old ladies with their grandkids. I think I also saw a few gay guys looking in my direction and getting weak in the knees, but in that moment, who gave a shit?

"Um, excuse me, but what are you singing?" I heard a little voice ask. I looked, and there, with Diann close behind, was Jason. I was a little surprised to see that this kid, who was too shy to talk to me half an hour ago actually walk up and ask me a question. And I also noticed that he had the same Scottish accent as his mother.

"Oh, this is an Italian folk song that my mother used to sing to me," I softly answered.

"Well, it seems to have worked," Diann observed. "You know, you are such a good father to your baby."

Let me tell you, hearing those words really made my day. "Thanks," I whispered. "Well, we should be going now. Nice meeting you."

"You, too," Diann smiled. As we went our separate ways, I had a really good feeling about how things would be for us from now on.

Two days later, Bebe and I were at the laundromat, taking the clothes out of the washer to put them in the dryers when I heard a voice say, "Hi."

I turned around. There were Diann and Jason. "Oh, hi, uh..." I said, trying to see if I could remember her name.

"Diann," she supplied.

"Diann, yeah," I answered. "How are you?"

"Oh, pretty good, thanks," she said. "My washing machine quit, so here we are."

"Oh, boy, that sucks. If it makes you feel any better, my place doesn't have one. Not even a laundry room in the building."

"Really?" Diann asked in surprise. "I thought every building had one."

"Not where I live."

Just then, Jason started pulling on Diann's arm and asking, "Mummy, can I have a quarter for the gumball machine?"

"Well, if you help me put the clothes in the washing machine first, okay?"

"Okay, Mummy," Jason agreed, and we all started loading our clothes into the machines. And as promised, Diann gave Jason a quarter, and he happily sat besdie the dryer, chewing and bubble-blowing to his heart's content.

"So, how do you like New York so far, Diann?" I asked as we sat down on one of the benches.

"Well, it's different from Scotland," she admitted. "I'm just glad I have my sister and her family here. My brother-in-law, Aaron, works for Bloomingdale's, and my sister, Amy, works as an interpreter at the UN. And shortly after we arrived, she had a baby girl named Alexandra. We call her Alex, and she's an absolute doll."

"That's great," I said. "I'm glad you have family here to help you out with things." And as soon as I said those words, I immediately thought of my phone conversation with JP, when I was telling him that I was leaving Canada. Like Diann, I also had my family to help out. As for what made her come here, I don't know. But I didn't want to ask her, because let's face it, it ws none of my business anyway.

"So, uh—what do you do?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, I'm a nurse's aide," Diann answered. "When I still lived in Scotland, I worked at the same nursing home with my mother until I got my green card and visa, and now, we have our won place in Manhattan."

"Sounds like an interesting job," I commented. "I'm a contractor myself, but lately, jobs in that area haven't been that easy to find, so right now, I'm doing maintenance work at Motel 6. You have to start somewhere, right?"

"I suppose," Diann agreed.

That's when Bebe started crying. I looked at the clock on the wall, and saw that it was almost 12:30. "She's getting hungry," I said. "Why didn't I get something to go? Well, besides the fact that it would spill on the clothes, that is."

"Hold on, I think I might have some wheat crackers in my purse," Diann said as she opened it up and started looking.

The next thing I heard was a little voice beside me, singing very softly:

_"Je-sus loves me, this I know-ow, for the Bi-ble tells me so-o;_

_Lit-tle ones to Him belong, they are weak, but He is stro-ong_

_Ye-es, Je-sus loves me-e-e; ye-es, Je-sus loves me-e-e; ye-es, Je-sus loves me-e-e._

_The Bi-ble tells me so-o-o..."_

I looked, and there was Jason kneeling in front of Bebe's stroller, singing to her, and doing some hand motions while singing. Bebe was watching him as he sang, and was even trying to do some of the motions. All the while, I just sat there, my eyes and mouth wide open, and basically looking like a complete idiot, at this little kid singing to my daughter. Not only did Jason have a wonderful voice for a five-year-old, but somehow, he got her to stop crying.

"Well, that's something you don't see every day," one of the customers commented as he passed by. "Imagine a little kid doing something like that!"

"That's really good singing, Jason," I said as I knelt beside him. "Where'd you learn that?"

"In Bible School," he answered. And you know what? That was not the same shy kid I'd met at Wal-Mart. "Granny said she used to sing it to me when I was a baby."

I looked over at Diann, who had a huge grin on her face ash she handed me the little packet of crackers she'd found. "Jason's always been a good singer," she said. "I'm surprised he wasn't singing 'God Save the Queen' on the day he was born!"

That was funny enough, but what Jason said next really made me laugh. "I wasn't?" he asked in surprise, which made it all the more funny.

Boy, Art Linkletter sure knew what he was talking about, huh?

Over the next couple of weeks, Diann and I continued to see each other, sometimes with the kids, sometimes alone. She was a lot of fun to be with: smart, loving, compassionate, and, unlike Marie, very sane and level-headed. And whenever the four of us were together, we felt like a real family. Bebe, in particular, really loved Jason. Every time one of them saw the other, they'd just light up, run to each other (or, in Bebe's case, toddle), and go hug-wild. I could tell Jason had those big-brother instincts, because he never let Bebe out of his sight when they were together, just like I'd been toward my siblings when I was a kid. For such a little kid, he sure was protective of Bebe.

One day, we were in the checkout line at the supermarket when I asked Diann, "Say, I was just wondering, if you're not too busy, I thought maybe the four of us could go out to dinner sometime. My treat."

"Okay. Sounds great," Diann said. Jason nodded in agreement.

"Good. Why don't you give me your phone number, and I'll call you with the time?"

"Okay," Diann agreed. With that, we exchanged phone numbers, and went our separate ways.

That following Saturday, I got a call from Diann. "So, are we still on for dinner?" I asked.

"Absolutely. Did you have something special in mind?"

"How about the Olive Garden?" I suggested. "They have great fettucine Alfredo."

"Okay, sounds like a plan," she agreed. "I'll have to meet you there, though. Jason's pictures just came in. In fact, I just got off the phone with Wal-Mart before calling you."

"Deal," I said, and we hung up. After a quick shower and changing into the first shirt-and-khaki combo I could grab, Bebe and I were out the door.

We'd just pulled into the parking lot at the Olive Garden when the front door opened, and out stepped Diann and Jason. "Hey, you guys," I said, waving to them, as I got out of the car.

"Hi, Steve," Diann called. "Need a hand?"

"No, thanks, I got it."

"Hi, Bebe!" Jason said excitedly as we got to the door. And like always, Bebe toddled as fast as her legs would carry her, and gave him a hug. Diann and I couldn't help smiling. (Years later, I would see the same reaction to Jason from other kids. Kind of makes you wonder if he has a sign on his back that says "HUG ME", doesn't it?)

The maitre d' showed us to a table in the non-smoking section, booster seat in hand for Jason. "One of the wait staff will bring you a high chair for your daughter," he said, in his very thick Indian accent. Think of Fisher Stevens' character from the _Short Circuit _movies, only a hell of a lot less annoying.

"Thanks a lot," I said as I stood Bebe up on the bench. After the waitress brought the high chair, I placed Bebe in it, and sat down so we could place our drink orders: milk for the kids, iced tea for Diann, and white Zinfandel for me.

"Okay, be right back with your drinks," the waitress said, and went to fill our order.

"This is a really nice place, Steve," Diann smiled as she helped herself to a breadstick. "Thanks for bringing us here."

"No problem, Diann. So, uh, you're from Scotland, huh?" I asked.

"Aye," Diann answered. "I miss my family over there, and Jason misses his granny."

"Must have been pretty hard for you guys to leave, huh?"

"I'll say."

"I think I know what you mean," I said. "I felt the same way when we left Canada."

"What happened, if you don't mnd me asking?"

"No, not at all. Well, you see my divorce from my first wife was finalized about three months ago. She was bipolar, and not keeping up with her meds. Well, after one pretty ugly night—and I'll spare you the details—I packed a couple of suitcases for us, and left her with the divorce papers. I just didn't want anything to happen to Bebe. Between that and telling my boss—my former father-in-law—that I had to leave, I couldn't tell you which sucked worse."

I looked across the table at Diann, and she had the most sympathetic look on her face. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that," she said gently. "I still remember getting the news of my first husband being shot down over Baghdad. I was expecting Jason at the time, and the one thought that kept going through my head was that he'd never know his real father."

I sighed and looked away. Hearing that story made me think of the time Gamma told me about my great-great uncle, who I was named after. I'm told he was killed in Halifax, Nova Scotia during World War I. Granted, it happened long before my time, but even today, I wonder what he was like and what he would've become if he'd lived. I also knew Jason would be wondering the same thing about his dad someday.

After a long pause, Diann reached overand took my hand. "You did the right thing concerning Bebe," she said. "I wish more people were that sensible when it came to a child's safety."

You know what? As soon as Diann said that, I felt the weight of that entire ordeal just float off my shoulders. It was like she knew exactly how I'd felt, and knew what to say to make it easier to deal with. And I'll tell you, it was the best damn feeling in the world.

"Thanks, Diann," I said softly. And I took her hand in both of mine and kissed it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jason very discreetly cover his face with his hand. _Aw, come on, it wasn't that disgusting, was it? _I thought.

That's when the waitress brought our drinks and took our dinner orders. It was then that I knew that Diann was the woman I wanted to grow old with, and having Jason for a son, especially after seeing him with Bebe, was even better.

_July, 1996_

After our "family date" to the Olive Garden, Diann and I began a dating marathon. We'd see each other two or three nights out of the week, family date once a week, and the rest of the time, we'd leave the kids with baby-sitters and go on our own dates. The baby-sitter who lived in our building was Hallie, who's been Paula's best friend since third grade. If Hallie couldn't baby-sit, I'd ask Paula or Amanda to do it.

The one date I remember the most was swhen we were house-sitting for Diann's sister and her family: her sister Amy, her brother-in-law Aaron, and their daughter,Alex, who's Bebe's age. Amy and Aaron were trying to decide where to go for their annual summer vacation, so I suggested the cabin up in Cape Cod, where my family and I had stayed that one summer. I'd told them about Dad and his family going there, and how he'd met Mom. "Good idea, Steve," Amy said. "Alex has been learning how to swim lately, and that'd be a great place for her to practice."

"Yup," I agreed. "And don't worry about a thing. Diann, the kids, and I will take good care of the house while you guys are gone."

"Thanks, Steve," Aaron grinned. "And we promise not to send you a crate full of lobsters or start rooting for the Red Sox."

"Deal," I laughed.

The next night after they left, Diann and I had put the kids to bed and were skinny-dipping in the backyard pool. And yes, due to the zoning laws and the fact that they live in a brownstone, it was an above-ground pool. But what the hell. It still felt like there was no one else in the world but us.

"This is so nice, Steve," Diann said as she swam up to me.

"It sure is, babe," I agreed. "I'll tell you, you have the nicest family in the world. And best of all, I'm with you, the kids are in bed, and so far, none of the neighbors have called the cops and said, 'Yes, there's a really shitty remake of _The Blue Lagoon _being filmed in the backyard next door. Could you send someone over there to tell them how terrible a job they're doing?'"

Naturally, my joke sent Diann into a laughing fit, loud enough for someone to report us for disturbing the peace, among other things. But surprisingly, it didn't wake the kids, even though we had the baby monitor with us. Go figure!

After Diann had calmed down a bit, she asked, "What are you thinking about, honey?"

"Well, you, for starters," I smiled as I wrapped my arms around her waist. "I've got to tell you, a few months ago, I thought it was the end of the world."

"I did, too," Diann agreed, resting her head on my shoulder. "When Jason's father was killed, I never thought I'd ever be happy again. I thought it was the end of the world."

"Well, now you'll never have to," I said. "Neither of us will. In fact, this is just the beginning."

"What do you mean?"

"Here, follow me," I said, taking her hand and helping her out of the pool. After drying off and wrapping our towels around ourselves, we went up to the patio, where I led her over to a chair. As she sat down, I reached into my robe pocket, and took out a little blue box.

"Diann," I began, "I love you more than anything in the world, and I love your son like he was my own flesh and blood. And I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have in my life than you." Then, whipping off my towel and kneeling, I opened the box. "Will you marry me?"

When Diann saw that ring, her eyes got really wide and her jaw almost hit China. It was yellow-gold with a large square diamond right in the center. If you angled it at the light just the right way, you could see all the colors of the rainbow as it sparkled. As for where I'd gotten it, well, let's just say that Aaron knows a guy in the Bloomingdale's jewelry department.

"Yes," Diann whispered, fighting the tears as I slipped it onto her finger. "Yes, Steve, I'll marry you." And with that, she undid her towel and dove into my arms.

"You know, I was just thinking," I said soon after we'd finished kissing. "You know how, after getting married, the woman typically takes her husband's last name?"

"Aye."

"Well, would it be okay if Jason did that, too? I mean, he's going to be my stepson and all?"

"I think that would be wonderful," Diann said tenderly. "When do you want to get that taken care of?"

"Sometime after the wedding," I answered. "The reason I was asking is that since his real father is dead, I could legally adopt him."

"Yes, that's right. I've seen you with Bebe, and I think you'd make a wonderful father to him."

"And I think you'd make a wonderful mother for Bebe."

"Thank you so much," Diann whispered. After another long kiss, we got up, put our robes on, and went upstairs to bed. On that night, I knew that even though one part of our lives had ended, another was getting ready to begin.

And as far as we were concerned, all was right with the world.


	16. Steve 7

**STEVE 7**

_September, 1996_

I was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting my tie. "Well, Bebe, how does Daddy look?" I asked. Bebe gave a little smile and cocked her head, so I knew it was all right.

It was finally the day of my second wedding. I knew it would be different from my first one, which had been nearly seven years ago. I also knew that Diann had no problems, so I had nothing to worry about. The biggest difference between my first wedding and now was the location. It was going to be held at St. Patrick's Cathedral on 5th Ave. And with as many people that were coming, we could definitely use the extra space!

After I finished buttoning my vest, I went over to my briefcase and pulled out the adoption form I'd picked up the day before. I'd filled it out, but decided to wait until after talking to Jason to sign it.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. "Come in," I called.

"Hey, bro," Pat smiled as he came in. If there's one thing I know about Pat, it's that he loves dressing up. And the tux he was wearing really made him feel like a million bucks.

"Wow, look at you, kid," I grinned. "Somebody should tell those girls to keep their hands off, huh?"

"Why? I'm not a glass elephant," he laughed, which got me started, as well as Bebe. Every time she hears someone laughing, she always joins right in, even if she has no idea what they're talking about.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're marrying Diann," he said solemnly. "She's really nice, and Jason's a cute kid."

"Thanks, Pat."

"Also, I was just wondering, do you miss Marie?"

I won't lie to you, I was taken aback when he asked me that. Sure, we'd had good times together, but that was before I knew what I was really getting myself into. Even now, I still wondered what would've happened if it had worked out.

"Well," I said after a moment, "in a way, yes. But you remember what kind of problems she had, don't you?"

"Yeah," Pat nodded. "I heard you and Mom talking about that when you came back. And I remember when you told us what happened. She wasn't nice to you that night, was she? She wasn't nice to anybody."

"She wasn't herself that night, Pat," I explained. "It was like her body was there, but her mind wasn't. Do you see what I'm getting at here?"

"I think so," Pat nodded. Then, turning to Bebe, he added, "Diann would be such a good mommy to you."

Bebe looked up and held her arms out to Pat, grinning all the while. "Patty!" she squealed.

Pat went over and picked her up as I put on my jacket and shoes. "Want to come downstairs with me while Daddy finishes getting ready?" he asked her.

"Okay," she grinned as she threw her arms around Pat and laid her head on his shoulder. For someone who's a year and a half old, she was learning to talk pretty damn well.

The church was jam-packed as I stood at the altar with my attendants: Aaron was my best man; and Michael, Diann's brother, Joe, Jacob, and Pat were my ushers and groomsmen. Diann's side had Amy as her matron of honor. Her bridesmaids were Katrina, Joe's wife, Sarah, Paula, and our cousin, Jasmine, who's Michael's age, as well as Aunt Hope and Uncle Mark's daughter. Our ring bearer, of course, was Jason, and our flower girl was Katrina's cousin, Suzanne Father Frank was officiating, just like he'd done at Gamma's funeral.

_Well, this is it, _I thought as I watched Suzanne spread her rose petals down the aisle. _This time, I _know_ it'll work._

After Suzanne took her place at the alter, I looked up to see Jason coming down the aisle with the rings. I guess he was pretty wrapped up in how the church looked, because instead of stopping beside me, he walked right on past and toward the piano. I thought for sure he was going to walk straight into it. Some of the guests found it funny, and I have to admit that I did, too. But at the same time, he needed to be where he was supposed to be, so I took his arm and led him to his spot. "Now, stay here," I whispered.

The next thing I saw was the guests standing as Diann made her way down the aisle. And I thought Marie looked beautiful when I married her!

"Showtime," she whispered as she stood beside me. I grinned, nodded, ande turned to Father Frank.

The ceremony itself began normally, until it ws time for the rings. Apparently, no one bothered to fasten them to the pillow in any way, because as soon as Jason held it up, Diann's ring slid right off and started rolling down the aisle.

_Oh, God, not this, _I thought. Of all things to happen today, of all days, it had to be this.

What happened next was an even bigger surprise. "Here, hold this," Jason whispered, thrusting the pillow into my hands. Before I could ask what he was doing, he took off down the aisle like Michael Johnson at the 200-meter dash. Then he took a big dive, and the instant he hit the floor, slapped his palm down over the ring. There was a huge gasp from everybody in that entire church when they saw that.

"Did I just see that?" I whispered to Michael.

"Yup," he answered. "Eat your heart out, Roger Moore."

After picking up the ring, Jason returned to his spot beside me, and acting like nothing had happened. "Here, Steve," he said, handing me the ring and taking back his pillow. As I slipped it on Diann's finger, I knew that having Jason for a stepson would be anything but dull.

The reception was held in the church's basement. Just like the sanctuary, it was big enough to accommodate the amount of guests that had showed up. Talk about luck!

Since my family is Italian, we had spaghetti, fettucine Alfredo, and lasagna, both meat and veggie-style. There was also haggis and kidney pie, with Diann's family being from Scotland and all. And you know what? They actually tasted pretty good. Our wedding cake was yellow-and-chocolate swirl with white frosting, and red, blue, and green icing around the edges. I know most cakes are white on one side and chocolate on the other, like Dee Dee and Alan's had been, but a little variety never hurt anyone, right?

After Diann and I finished cutting the cake—no smearing it in each other's faces, by the way—I happened to look across the room and see Jason sitting by one of the exits, surrounded by all these little girls, including Suzanne. "And Bebe was crying, so I sang to her," I heard him saying. "She loves it when you sing to her."

"What did you sing, Jason?" Suzanne asked.

"'Jesus Loves Me'," he answered. "My granny used to sing to to me when I was a baby. Well, that's what Mummy says. She's sitting over there."

The girls looked over to where Jason pointed, and then turned back to him. And believe me, their smiles were a mile wide. "Diann, look," I whispered, pointing to where Jason was.

Diann looked up, and when she saw her little boy sitting in the middle of all those girls, she laughed a little before turning to me. "He's a regular lassie-magnet, yes?" she smiled.

"I'll say," I agreed. "Say, Diann, would it be all right if I talked to him now?"

"Aye," Diann answered. "I know he'll be happy to hear what you want to tell him."

Nodding, I gave Diann a kiss and headed over to Jason. "Hi, kiddo," I said. "Having a good time?"

"Aye. It's the most fun I've ever had."

"I'll say!" I agreed. "Looks like you won't have any trouble getting a dance today, huh?"

Jason burst into giggles, which set the girls off, too.

"Say, uh, can I talk to you for a sec?" I asked once they'd calmed down.

"Sure, Steve," he agreed, and he followed me over to the head table. "What is it?"

"Well, your mother and I have a little something for you," I said as I sat down in front of him. I reached underneath the table and took out a white box with a black bow on it. "Just to say welcome to the family."

Man, you should've seen the look on that kid's face when he opened that box. It was a music box/snowglobe of the Manhattan skyline. When he turned it over and wound the crank on the bottom, it started playing "Memory" from _Cats._

"Mummy loves this song," he whispered as he looked at me with huge, round eyes. And that was all it took for him to start crying. I mean, _really. _He was so happy, he flung his arms around my neck and buried his face into my shoulder as I scooped him up on my lap. "Thank you so much, Steve. I love it."

"You're more than welcome, son," I whispered, my voice breaking. After a while, we separated, and still holding him on my lap, I continued, "Jason, your mother and I had a long talk about what's going to happen to our family now that she's taken my last name, and we were also wondering if you'd like to do that, too."

For a minute, Jason just sat there, not saying a word. I could tell he was trying to process what I'd just told him. Then he wiped his eyes and nodded. "I'd like that," he said softly, and then rested his head on my shoulder. "I love you, Steve."

And I did, too. As I held my new stepson in my arms and gently kissed his forehead, I thought of Gamma. I knew she was watching over me from heaven, and for that, I couldn't have been more thankful.

You know the rest of _this _story, don't you?


	17. Epilogue: Bebe Everett Pike

A/N: Yes, this is the last chapter. Like the Sweet Valley Saga, it too has an epilogue, but no prologue.

**EPILOGUE: Bebe Everett-Pike**

_Sometime in the near future..._

I was sitting on the bed in my hospital room, looking down at my newborn son, BJ, which is short for Byron, Jr. "Hi, sweetie," I whispered tenderly. "You and Sissy are going to have some visitors today."

Across the room, my husband Byron was changing our daughter, Bonnie. _"I got sunshi-i-ine on a clou-dy da-a-ay; when it's cold out-si-i-ide, I got the month of Ma-ay," _he sang. "Well, right now, it's cold and cloudy out there, but you get the idea, right? Want to sing with me, baby? Oh, that's right, you missed the '60s. Come to think of it, we all did."

I grinned and shook my head. That's Byron for you. Always making jokes while doing the most common, ordinary things.

"Oh, I got an e-mail from Jordan today," Byron said as he finished and sat down beside me on the bed with the baby cradled in his arms.

"Oh? What'd he have to say?" I asked as I scooted back on the bed.

"He and Hunter set their wedding date. It's on May 26th."

"That's great," I smiled.

Oh, you're probably wondering what we're talking about, right? Well, you see, when Byron and I were freshmen in high school, he told me that his brother, Jordan, had just come out. I'll be honest with you, it was something of a surprise to me. I'd known the Pikes and the Brunos since I was ten, and Hunter's sister Kerry has been my best friend since. Anyway, Jordan didn't come across as the kind of person who you'd think was gay. It took the rest of the family a while to get over the way they felt at first, but in time, they started to come around, as did the Brunos. And yes, they still love them the same way they always did.

Byron had just put Bonnie in her isolette when we heard a voice say, "Hi, kids."

I looked up, and there were Grandpa John and Grandma Rose, Daddy's parents. Grandpa John was carrying a white file box in his arms.

"Hi," I answered as Grandpa John set the box on the floor by my feet and went to wash his hands.

"How are the babies?" Grandma Rose asked as she dried her hands on the towel and sat down beside the bed.

"Oh, just wonderful," I said, handing BJ to her. "They haven't given us any trouble yet. And I stress _yet."_

"Oh, it won't be that stressful," Grandma Rose assured me. "I've been through raising twins. Your Aunt Paula and Uncle Pat were a bit of a handful sometimes, but basically good kids."

"Thanks," I said as I gave her a kiss.

"Oh, before I forget, I have something for you guys," Grandpa John said as I put the box beside me. "I was saving this for a special occasion, and this is as special as they come."

I opened the box, and there was a lot of stuff in it. As I pawed through it, I came across a newspaper that was dated April 16, 1912, and the headline on the front page read, "_TITANIC SINKS, 1500 PERISH." _There were also a few wedding photos, engagment and birth announcements, and a movie ticket stub for _The Wizard of Oz_, which also happens to be one of my favorite movies. In fact, Byron and I make it a tradition to watch it every year on the day before Thanksgiving. Sometimes whenever Daddy or I are bored, or in a silly mood, or when it gets to that part of the movie, we'll whistle along to "If I Only Had A Brain". (Whenever we're watching it and I do that, Byron just plugs his ears and starts humming the _Flash Gordon _theme.)

"Wow," I whispered. "I never knew this much about our family's history. I mean, I remember you telling me about the _Titanic—_before I saw the movie, that is—but I never knew that much about it."

"Yes, your great-great grandmother was on that ship," Grandpa John said. "In fact, the necklace that your Aunt Dee Dee gave you for your sweet sixteen was hers, too. She'd gotten it from an Irish boy around her age, who went down with the ship, along with her father and brother."

"Did they ever find their bodies?"

"No."

That was really sad to know that they not only didn't survive, but their bodies were never recovered, along with at least a thousand others. I remembered when Kerry and I saw the movie in 3-D our junior year of high school. Not once did it occur to me that members of my own family were there.

"Thanks, Grandpa John," I said softly.

"No problem, sweetie. "And yes, this is yours to keep. You can even share with these two little ones someday."

"I think they'd appreciate knowing their family's history," I said, and I flung my arms around my grandfather. This was such a wonderful gift.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. "Come in," Byron called.

As soon as Byron said that, a whole mass of people made their way inside. First came Byron's folks, along with Daddy and Diann. Jason, Kristy and their boys, five-year-old Daniel and one-year-old Tony came next. (In case you're wondering, Tony had been named after not only my great-great-grandfather, but also a stillborn that Daddy and my real mom had when Daddy lived in Canada.) Last came Kristy's stepsister, Karen, and her fiancé, Mark Judson.

"Hey, you guys!" I laughed. "I didn't expect all of you at once!"

"Well, here we are," Kristy grinned. "And expect more of us tomorrow! Mal called me last night. She and Ben just got in from Cleveland."

"How are the twins?" Byron asked.

"Looking forward to starting kindergarten, and driving them up the wall in the meantime," Kristy laughed. "The Hobart wildness lives on."

"I'll say!" I agreed. "So Karen, how are things in Vero Beach?"

"Oh, you'd love it there, Bebe," Karen grinned. "It's so nice and warm down there. You know, I never realized just how mean those New England winters were until I moved down to Florida."

"Yeah, and I neevr imagined how nice Florida was until I came up here to meet your family," Mark added. "I guess the grass really is greener on the other side."

"Yeah, and the beaches are a hell of a lot nicer, too!" Karen laughed.

"Oh, before I forget," Byron added as he opened the top drawer on my nightstand. "They don't allow smoking in here, and since none of us do anyway, this is the next best thing."

The next best thing turned out to be Slim-Jims. "Boy, I'll tell you, that's the best $3.79 I've ever spent!" he laughed as he passed them out.

"And if Abby were here, she'd be doing her Groucho Marx impression," Karen added as she tried to do Groucho's signature eyebrow-wiggle, which got a big laugh from all of us.

As everybody started getting their cameras out to take pictures of us, I sat back on my bed and thought about my life and my family's history, not to mention the greatest friends I could ever ask for. And as I looked down at my new babies, I knew how lucky they were going to be someday.

In that moment, surrounded by all these loving people, a whole new generation of Pikes and Everetts had just begun.

**THE END**


End file.
